Side Effects Of Sipping On Sunshine
by blue.rose.spobette
Summary: Sequel to Somewhere With You. Should read SWY first. Toby's deployment is coming to a close and wedding planning is underway - but for Spencer Hastings, nothing is quite that simple.
1. Prologue

_Always caught up in the wrong frame of mind _  
><em>Sick of waiting for my stars to align <em>  
><em>When they do, <em>  
><em>Will you be the last in the line? <em>  
><em>If I see the glow will you be mine oh mine?<em>

_Cause it will never be right it will never be wrong _  
><em>I knew it at the bar still I asked what you sipping on? <em>  
><em>Now I'm thinking about things I'd like to say<em>  
><em>Sipping on till I feel no pain <em>  
><em>She likes the rain, <em>  
><em>But my sunshine never came<em>

_**"Side Effects Of Sipping On Sunshine" - Open Til Midnight**  
><em>

* * *

><p><span>The Side Effects Of Sipping On Sunshine<span>

**Prologue**

Journaling: the one thing that Spencer Hastings had never quite understood. She had made several feeble attempts to turn festive notebooks into diaries over the years, or start a private blog to chronicle her thoughts, but had always given up shortly thereafter. She had always found that her brain was often more exhausted after an intense silent venting session, and had never seen the appeal.

However, it had been one of the primary things that kept her going while Toby was away. Though she knew it was nobody's intention, she had learned early on that there was only so much advice people could give about a situation they knew nothing about. Their eyes would glaze over after a while in fatigue, and she could tell that they were simply dying to change the awkward subject. It had become much easier to write about it in private to sort out her thoughts.

And today's thoughts were particularly chaotic. New Year's Eve was supposed to mark the end of the year – the conclusion of whatever given chapter your life had reached. Tomorrow was about new beginnings and a new outlook on life.

But she couldn't help feeling like her life was stagnating in the present. Time was going so slowly, and she found herself wishing the days away. And that was something no person should ever have to do. Life was to be enjoyed – every miniscule moment in time. Lately, she found the calendar to be nothing more than a nuisance. A cruel reminder.

There was no possible way to describe the feeling to anybody that had not gone through it before. It was as though a nail had been driven into the center of her heart, sending a splintering array of spider web cracks from the point of entry. It was the closest a person could come to their heart breaking, without actually enduring that precise amount of pain.

And she was growing exhausted of the generic phrases she had been hearing so much of lately. The 'he'll be home before you know it's and the 'you should be proud of him for doing such a wonderful thing's had taken on a monstrous identity of their own. The resentment and frustration that befell Spencer upon hearing these "pearls of wisdom" was enough to send her screaming in agony to the rooftops, willing everybody to get some fucking clue about how much she missed him.

She usually set ten minutes aside every night before bed to spontaneously shout obscenities into her pillow, doing what she could to release the tension and anxiety that continued to snowball throughout any given day. Then, after feeling considerably calmer, she would take her nightly bath.

Life had to go on, after all. And she had to find her own unique way to cope with the stress she was feeling.

He had kept his promise about writing to her as often as possible, and had even made it a point to call her on his days off whenever he could. Hearing his voice was always the high point of her Sundays, even if the tin can sound in the receiver reminded her of the distance that barred them from one another.

Hanna and Holmes had fulfilled their duties of friendship, being sure to lend sympathetic ears on the rare occasion that Spencer chose to vent. When the three-month lease expired on their apartment and Lancaster made a unit transfer to Kentucky, Holmes had even been gracious enough to offer the girls a place to stay. Holmes complained of boredom and loneliness in the large fraternity-style house, and insisted that the place needed a woman's touch. Toby, of course, had been more than fond of the idea that Spencer would be sleeping in his room until his return.

The living arrangements, however, had caused a substantial amount of difficulty in Hanna's relationship with Caleb. As if the distance of their romance was not detrimental enough in and of itself, the ability to maintain a healthy level of trust was even more difficult. Spencer didn't necessarily blame him for being concerned, for the friendship that Hanna and Holmes possessed was certainly out of the ordinary and could make any long distance boyfriend suspicious.

"Spencer! The ball is about to drop!" Hanna called from the hallway. Spencer sighed heavily and finished typing her thought into her Word Doc diary, slamming her laptop shut definitively.

Though the idea of a New Year's party had sounded good at the time that they planned it, Spencer had found quickly that she preferred to reflect on her year in solitude. The sounds of the raucous party downstairs suddenly found their way to her ears again as she traipsed down the hallway.

"No! Stop! This is not the time," Hanna was arguing fervently behind her bedroom door. It wasn't shut quite tight, Spencer realized, as she tried to move quickly past to avoid eavesdropping.

"It can't wait," Caleb protested. "I've been trying to talk to you about it all night but you haven't given me the chance."

Spencer paused, unable to help herself.

"Because tonight was supposed to be fun," Hanna pressed. "And you've been Dr. Grumpers all night. Will you please come downstairs with me? It's almost midnight."

"Hanna," Caleb stated definitively, "I think it's better we get this out of the way _before_ midnight…"

Spencer's heart skipped a beat involuntarily as she hurried back towards the stairs. She didn't like the sound of Caleb's tone…it wasn't her place to continue listening.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Holmes met her almost immediately to place a dollar store top hat on her head and a noisemaker in her hand.

"There you are! I was wondering when you'd grace us with your presence!"

Spencer smiled. "Yeah…sorry. Just…trying to get rid of my headache."

Holmes grinned. He, himself, wore a goofy-looking cone-shaped party hat and ridiculous "2012" sunglasses. He glanced over Spencer's shoulder, upwards to the second floor. "Where's Hanna? She's going to miss it!"

"I dunno," Spencer lied, looping her arm through Holmes's and trying her best to nonchalantly lead him back towards the living room. She didn't want him to catch wind of their argument – she had a feeling that part of it was about him…

"So what did I miss?" she inquired. As they stepped up behind the couch, she saw now that the countdown on the television had reached 11:58. People were gathered around the big screen, prepared to go to town with their noisemakers.

"Nothing," Holmes replied distantly, still glancing over his shoulder. "Is everything okay? It didn't look like her and Caleb were having much fun…"

"No idea," Spencer said once more, forcing what she hoped was a clueless smile. "C'mon! Where's the midnight champagne?"

"Right here," he announced, gesturing to the adjacent bar top. Indeed, several plastic champagne flutes were set out with enough bubbly in each for a brief toast to the new year. She picked one up for herself and handed one to Holmes.

"Thanks."

The partygoers erupted in synchronized countdown just as Hanna approached Spencer and Holmes from behind. She was alone; and the puffy nature of her eyes alerted Spencer that this was precisely the problem.

"10!...9!..."

"Hanna? What's wrong?" Spencer asked worriedly, reaching out to take her hand. Hanna shook her head fervently.

"Nothing. I mean…it's Caleb's birth mom…"

"8!...7!..."

"…She offered him full paid tuition to the University of California if he would come live with her."

"6!...5!..."

Spencer blanched, interpreting this meaning independently. "Oh, honey…I'm so sorry…"

"And he didn't even want to try?" Holmes demanded protectively. "Where is he? I'll talk to him."

"4!...3!..."

"No," Hanna stated roughly. "No. It's already done."

Spencer squeezed Hanna's hand, while Holmes wrapped a supportive arm around the blond on her other side.

"You have us," he reminded. Hanna laughed mirthlessly, drooping her head onto his shoulder.

"And I love you both for that."

"2!...1!...HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The eruption of noisemakers was all but deafening. Spencer and Holmes continued to survey Hanna with concern, privy to the fact that she was more hurt than she was letting on.

"Happy New Year, Han," Spencer said softly, wrapping an arm around her back. Her fingertips grazed Holmes's shoulder on the other side.

"Happy New Year, Spence."

_**TO BE CONTINUED**_


	2. A Picture's Worth A Thousand Words

_**A/N:** Sorry for the short chapter, but I wanted to give you guys an update! Sorry it has been so long…there was a death in my family this week and things have been chaotic with funeral planning and the such._

_Tonight's episode was so fan girl worthy! I totally squeaked when Toby threatened to hit Wren. Haha. "My left arm may be broken, but my right arm is just fine…" AMAZINGGGG._

_Hope you enjoy!_

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>

_Two days later…_

"Hanna! You have to get up or you're going to be late!" Spencer cried, banging her fist against Hanna's bedroom door. She had dramatically confined herself to her room after the New Year's party, insisting that she needed 'time to reflect.' Spencer knew her well enough to know that this statement translated as thus: Hanna was feeling severely depressed, and was choosing to wallow in her self-pity with a tub of Ben & Jerry's, sappy romantic comedies, and a sheer neglect for personal hygiene.

"I'm not going!" Hanna called. There was a distinct _thump!_ that crashed against the door. Spencer had the sneaking suspicion that Hanna had used one of her shoes as a missile.

"It's your first day of classes," Spencer chastised. "You can't miss."

"Stop trying to be my mom!" Hanna whined back defensively.

Spencer groaned and leaned against the wall, folding her arms.

"What's the matter? What was that noise?" Holmes asked, wandering out of the bathroom and peering inquisitively at Spencer.

"She's throwing shit at me," Spencer growled indignantly. As much as she loved her best friend, she could not stand her self-righteous tantrums she'd throw whenever she got upset.

Holmes pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, gently rapping his knuckles against the door. "Hanna, your class starts in a half hour."

"I don't care!"

Holmes peeked at Spencer from the corner of his eye. "What's wrong, Hanna?" he asked with a heavy exhale, as though also exhausted by her melodrama.

"My eyes are puffy and swollen, I haven't showered in three days, I'm starting to smell like I went dumpster diving, and my ex-boyfriend is a selfish prick!" she hollered back. "I can't be seen in public!"

"As far as you being smelly and unpresentable, I'm sure that's something you can fix in no time," Holmes offered. "As far as the boyfriend piece – that's just something you'll have to get past."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Hanna asked, her voice softening from the threat of tears.

Holmes leaned his left shoulder against her door thoughtfully, crossing his arms. "Well – you gotta start by proving to yourself how much you can succeed without him. You're Hanna Marin – queen bee. You never let anyone forget it." Spencer chuckled softly at this. "Hanna, if you let him take your confidence away, then you're letting him win."

Hanna was silent for a moment. Spencer digested Holmes's statement. It wasn't as though Caleb had _really_ intended to hurt Hanna the way that he had – and she knew that Holmes was well aware of that, too – but to Hanna, he had wronged her and betrayed her to the worst possible degree. And it was, indeed, important to validate that feeling.

There was quiet shuffling from inside her room. Suddenly, the door swung inward, nearly causing Holmes to lose the balance he had propped against it. Hanna stood there, looking entirely downtrodden. Her hair was thrown up into a messy, slightly greasy bun…her face was certainly puffy…and her pink terra cloth bathrobe had chocolate ice cream stains all down the front.

And unfortunately, she was right – she did smell a bit.

"Fine," Hanna grumbled disdainfully. "But I'm not doing the dishes tonight."

"Deal," Holmes consented. With that, she roughly pushed past him and slammed the bathroom door shut behind her.

"How did you do that?" Spencer demanded, flabbergasted. "I've known her for years and I've never been able to talk her out of one of her episodes."

Holmes shrugged, grinning. "You have to understand – I grew up with three younger sisters. You just gotta learn to speak their language." He gave her a short wink before disappearing towards the stairs.

As grateful as Spencer was for Holmes working his magic, she did feel slightly out-thundered by his technique. She was Hanna's best friend…she was supposed to be able to do those things…better than anyone else.

"Spencer, I need you!" Hanna cried.

Spencer was down the hall in a flash. "What's wrong?"

"I have chocolate in my hair," she moaned from the other side of the bathroom door.

Spencer chuckled lightly to herself. Perhaps Holmes knew how to get Hanna to face her funk – but only Spencer could be the one to get the funk out of her hair.

* * *

><p>Hanna shuffled despondently into her classroom a half hour later, knowing that she had just narrowly missed being marked late. The instructor practically slammed the door behind her, nearly clearing her purse from her shoulder. The only seat available was up front and center – which just <em>figured<em> after the week she had had.

She plopped down at the desk grumpily, fishing into her purse to grab a fuzzy pink pen and her Hello Kitty notebook.

"Welcome to Introduction to Photography," the instructor began, scribbling indiscriminate script across the whiteboard. After reading it several times, Hanna realized it was the course and section numbers. "My name is Lydia Baumgardner. None of the 'professor' nonsense – call me Lydia."

Hanna absentmindedly jotted this down. She considered writing it word-for-word to look back on and laugh at later, but decided against being any more long-winded than necessary.

"Class starts promptly at nine o'clock on the dot. The door will be shut after that, and nobody will be allowed inside."

Hanna crinkled her nose. That was awfully bitchy…

"I'll start by handing out the syllabus. Talk amongst yourselves for a minute."

People began murmuring in undertones to one another, grateful for a second to socialize. Hanna, instead, opted to scroll through pictures on her phone. She had begun the arduous process of deleting all photographs of Caleb a few days ago, and was still working on completing this task. It was emotionally taxing, to be honest, but it had to be done. Just like changing her relationship status on Facebook…which had been mortifying.

A picture of both of them from prom. _Delete._

Caleb sitting on his new motorcycle. _Delete._

Hanna and Caleb out to eat at their favorite restaurant in Philly for their one year anniversary. _Delete. _

High school graduation. _Delete. _

"Only 1,186 pictures to go…" Hanna muttered to herself irritably. Why had she ever gotten a smart phone with an insanely large hard drive?

"See page two – _no electronics are to be used in class_," the instructor stated sternly. Hanna could practically feel her eyes burning into her forehead. Turning what she was sure were several shades of pink, she quietly dropped her phone back in her purse.

"Let's go through the syllabus together," Lydia began. Hanna, as if on cue, zoned out. She hated this part of the first day. Even though it was relatively low stress, it was still boring as all hell. Why couldn't the professors just trust them to do it on their own? They could read…

_Well, __**I'd**__ never go through it, _Hanna reasoned with herself silently. And it was true – after the first day, she often lost her syllabi anyway.

"…we will have group presentations at the end of the semester. It is very important that you and your partner get a head start on this assignment, as it is worth 45% of your grade."

Hanna grimaced. Group work…ugh.

"No changing of partners will be made. They are pre-assigned and you will work with that person throughout the course of the semester."

Hanna rolled her eyes. She'd probably get paired with some annoying fraternity type boy…and get stuck doing all the work.

"Please raise your hand as I call your name. I'll be taking attendance, but also introducing you to your partners. Amanda Slater and John Dohicky."

The pretty brunette girl next to Hanna raised her hand and smiled over her shoulder at her partner.

"Jason Prowdfoot and Josh Richardson."

Hanna proceeded to doodle in her notebook rather than crane her neck to inspect the rest of her classmates.

"Billy Ireland…and Samantha Alverson. Hanna Marin…"

Hanna raised her hand noncommittally.

"…and Jeff Cody."

Hanna's blood froze in her veins. It was a coincidence…it had to be…

She whipped her body around to stare incredulously behind her.

There he was. The blond bastard, lounging cockily in the back row, giving Hanna a short wave. Did he recognize her? He had to…

"Lydia," Hanna blurted before she could stop herself. "I'm sorry, but I can't – "

"No changing partners," Lydia interrupted, reminding Hanna of the rules.

Hanna gulped heavily. What was he doing here? Hadn't he gone to jail?

Most importantly…

…How the hell was she going to tell Spencer?

**_CONTINUED_**


	3. Philosophy

_**A/N**: Sorry everyone for the long wait. After the funeral, I got Bronchitis, and am still fighting with it. Hopefully I'll be back on a solid track soon! Thanks for all your supportive reviews. They mean so much to me._

_It's short, but hopefully will be sufficient for you all to forgive the delay!_

_Without further adieu, here is the next chapter!_

* * *

><p><strong><span>CHAPTER 2<span>**

The rest of class was unbearably awkward for Hanna, who, despite her efforts to ignore him, could feel his eyes burning in the back of her head the entire time. Periodically, she would turn around to look at him, as if to confirm that she was not hallucinating. Each and every time, there he was, staring back at her.

When the instructor finally dismissed them, she grabbed her purse and hastily bolted towards the door. Several people were congregating at the exit, however, and she was having difficulty squeezing through them.

"Excuse me…_excuse me_," she pleaded desperately, nearly knocking over a desk in her haste.

"Hanna! Hanna, wait!"

She knew it was him calling for her. She pretended not to hear.

At last she was able to maneuver through the doorway and into the halls, attempting to lose herself in the shuffle.

"Hanna! Come on, two seconds…"

She came to a hesitant stop, whipping around to look at him.

"Sorry, Cody, but I can't see how you could possibly deserve two seconds of my time."

"I know…but please," he continued desperately as he approached her.

"What the hell are you even doing here?" Hanna demanded. "You should be in prison."

"Three months in state penitentiary," Cody confirmed. "I'm out on parole, since I don't have a criminal history…and the military helped cut me some deals…"

"They should have discharged your ass," Hanna seethed.

"They did. But they still don't want one of their former men giving them a bad reputation." He looked over his shoulder, as if checking for eavesdroppers. "So they got me through – cleared my name – and then dropped me."

"Good. You deserve it. And more." Hanna indignantly tossed her hair over one shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Listen to me," he began with a heavy sigh. "Look, I know that I'm probably not the person you want to be working with…"

"I don't even want to share the same oxygen as you," Hanna corrected. "I'm dropping the class."

"Fine. That's fine. I don't blame you." He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "I need you to do me a favor though."

"You don't deserve any favors," Hanna scoffed.

"Maybe not," he agreed. "But you're Spencer's best friend, and you do owe _her_ a favor…"

Hanna looked at him, perplexed. She couldn't tell what he was trying to get at.

"Just – don't tell her you saw me. Okay? I'm not back to hurt anyone. I just want to go to school, finish my degree, and get the hell out of this state."

"Why shouldn't I tell her?" Hanna challenged.

"Because she and Cavanaugh will nail my ass to the ground," he replied. "That's the last thing I need right now. I'm trying to get on with my life."

Hanna studied her fingernails, trying to appear as nonchalant as she could.

"Besides," he continued, "I'm sure you don't want to hurt Spencer for no reason."

Hanna's breath hitched in her throat. That much was right…she never wanted to hurt Spencer…

"If you tell her you saw me, she'll just freak out," Cody provided. "Don't do that to her."

Hanna knew that despite his argument, he had no genuine concern for Spencer's wellbeing. How could he? After all he had done? It had nothing to do with her…it was simply a clever weapon to unleash in the midst of his argument. The "best friend" card. Hanna's Achilles Heel.

She found herself irritated. His debate was certainly compelling. He knew what to say to make Hanna consider being talked out of it.

"It's your decision," he concluded definitively, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. "But I think that if we pretend this never happened, a lot of people will be better off." With that, he pushed past her and towards the front door of the building.

Hanna stared after him, speechless. On the one hand, Spencer may never forgive her if she didn't tell her. But on the other…he was right, in some twisted way: it would just worry Spencer. It would hinder all the progress she had made since what happened. She would be back at square one of recovery, having the same nightmares and paranoia every time she heard a noise in the house.

The last thing she wanted to do was see her best friend regress back to that point.

So that was that. She'd drop the class and forget the entire mess. Wash her hands of it. Move on.

It was that simple. Right?

* * *

><p>"My brain hurts," Holmes quipped as he and Spencer merged into the line of students exiting the lecture hall. "He barely skimmed the surface of the first unit and I'm already feeling confused. Those Descartes meditations? What the hell?"<p>

"Well there are six total," Spencer began, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder. "But we're only going to study the first three, since they're the most famous. They're all about calling your senses into question, and whether your senses deceive you every day, or whether they are an accurate representation of the world around you."

Holmes made a face.

"Sorry, I read the first three chapters of the textbook already," Spencer stated.

"Of course you did," Holmes replied, rolling his eyes.

"I'm glad we have this class together though," Spencer added. "It's nice to have a friendly face sitting next to you in a class of two hundred people."

"Agreed," Holmes said, holding the front door of the building open for her. She stepped out, wrapping her winter jacket more tightly around her frame. "I hate sitting through those lectures by myself. Besides, now I have a study buddy."

"I hope by 'study buddy' you _mean_ 'study buddy,' and not 'homework slave'," Spencer laughed. "Made that mistake with Hanna once upon a time…"

"How is Hanna?" Holmes interrupted as they crossed the campus diag to head back towards the house. "I mean, she seems pretty torn up about this Caleb mess."

"She is," Spencer confirmed. "But Hanna bounces back fast. She doesn't like other people controlling her happiness. None of us do." As Spencer explained, she knew that she was talking about 'A' and all that he (or she) had done to disrupt their very lives. However, it was cryptic enough of an explanation for Holmes to not question it.

"Of course not," he agreed. "I'm just concerned. She's usually the one cheering everyone else up, you know?"

"Yeah," Spencer responded distantly as they continued walking. She hated to see Hanna hurting, too. Hanna was the kind of person who loved with all of her heart, and took no shortcuts in the process. Being let down was something she had never handled well. But her perseverant optimism was unyielding, and always shined through the fog after the initial mourning period. Getting her out of bed this morning had been a feat in and of itself. It was a start in the right direction.

"Do you think they'll get back together?" Holmes inquired, kicking clumps of snow out of his path.

"I don't know. Why do you ask?" Spencer inquired cheekily, knocking elbows with him.

"What do you mean, 'why do I ask'?" Holmes demanded indignantly.

"I dunno," Spencer said in a sing-song tone, a slight skip in her step. "Just thinking that maybe your chance is coming up…"

Holmes stopped dead. "My what?"

Spencer paused with him, her smile faltering in slight. "Sorry," she began quickly. "I'm not trying to interfere."

"No, what does that mean?" Holmes demanded, growing more irritable by the second.

"I just thought – I dunno," Spencer began pathetically, playing with the doilies on her scarf. "I just thought that there might be something there…with you two."

"It's not like that," Holmes insisted, picking up his pace once more. Spencer easily caught up to him.

"It would be okay if it was," she said supportively, looping her arm through his. "I know she means a lot to you. And sometimes those feelings keep evolving."

Holmes rolled his eyes, sending Spencer a sidelong smirk. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?"

Spencer grinned. "I won't lie. I think you'd be good for her. She needs someone consistent in her life. Caleb was great for a while…but long distance was never Hanna's strong point. She needs a boyfriend who is local."

"I don't exactly qualify as local," Holmes corrected. "I could deploy at any second."

"True," Spencer began vaguely, "but you're here now."

Holmes didn't reply for a moment.

"Just food for thought," she concluded cryptically.

"Well it's not like you've just given me a snack's worth of food for thought. I'm munching on an entire Thanksgiving feast here," Holmes laughed.

"So it's something to consider?" Spencer asked excitedly, squeezing her arm more tightly around his.

"Maybe. Someday. Who knows?" Holmes looked up at the sky, surveying the clouds.

"You're not very good at being forthright, are you?" Spencer demanded laughingly. He had not answered a single question with a solid response.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied playfully as they approached the threshold of the house. Spencer saw that Hanna's car was already in the driveway.

"Good, she's home," Spencer breathed, practically skipping up the front steps. "I need some Maid of Honor stuff out of her today."

"Think she's up for it?" Holmes asked seriously.

Spencer grinned, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "Hanna is always up for planning a party." With that, she pulled the front door open.

_**CONTINUED**_


	4. Maid of Dishonor

_**A/N: **Going through some serious Spoby withdrawals! Hoping that PLL brings him back soon. I can't stand it! _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 3<strong>

"…Melissa was saying that roses are cliché for a wedding so close to Valentine's Day, but they really are my favorite. I just can't decide between red and white. Red is supposed to mean true love, but white means hope. And that's symbolic for what we've been through. Then again, there will already be a lot of white…since it's a wedding…plus you and Emily and Aria are wearing red, so it matches…but is that red overkill? What do you think?"

Spencer was standing in front of the floral arrangement counter, thumbing through the order pamphlet. She turned to Hanna expectantly, who seemed distracted by the Valentine's display.

"Hanna. Hello?"

"Sounds good," Hanna stated noncommittally, returning to reality. Spencer rolled her eyes.

"You have no idea what I said…"

"You don't need my opinion," Hanna chided gently. "We both know you already have your mind made up."

Spencer nodded bashfully as she flipped a page in the order book. "You're right. I'll do both."

"Are you sure you want to do this so fast?" Hanna inquired, lazily flopping down on one of the couches of the lobby. Spencer carried her clipboard over to the seat beside her.

"What do you mean?"

"It's just so unpredictable. Love." Hanna was twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger absent-mindedly. "You never know what's going to happen…Or whether you'll be together next month…"

Spencer felt a pang of guilt. Hanna was still reeling from her break-up with Caleb, and here Spencer was, forcing her to help plan a wedding. She felt suddenly selfish.

"I have a feeling this isn't about Toby and me," Spencer decided. She set the clipboard aside and leaned over her legs to survey Hanna's face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Hanna stated definitively. "I'm just so angry with him…"

"I know," Spencer said supportively, putting a hand on Hanna's knee. "He could have tried to make it work."

"He could have chosen _me_," Hanna corrected, crossing her arms stubbornly. "We could have figured something out together."

"But Han," Spencer began gently, careful in her word selection, "Caleb has dreams, too. He supported you when you came out here to fulfill yours…"

"And I would have supported him in California," Hanna defended indignantly, swatting Spencer's hand away.

"It would have killed you," Spencer reasoned. "You would be a million miles away from each other and hardly spend any time together…"

"You and Toby made it happen," Hanna snapped. "You closed the distance and found each other again. After months. Caleb just didn't have the hope that I thought he did."

"I know you're angry," Spencer stated, "but you can't begrudge him for this. It was hard on him, too."

"I know," Hanna sighed dejectedly, letting her body fall against the back cushion of the leather couch. "I just wish we didn't have to grow up so fast. You know?"

"Yeah," Spencer agreed distantly. "I do. It's just…Hanna…you know you can talk to me about this. About anything."

Hanna seemed to engaging in some kind of internal debate. She let Spencer's words hang precariously in the air as she stubbornly wiped a single tear from her cheek and sat up straight.

"Sorry to be a Debbie Downer," she declared suddenly. "Today is about you. Let's take a look at those flowers."

"Hanna…"

"Lemme see what you picked." Before Spencer could protest, Hanna had already ripped the pamphlet from her hand and was studying the open page. "Red and white roses. Totally classic, Spence. Good pick."

"Have you talked to Holmes?" Spencer asked suddenly before she could stop herself.

Hanna made a face. "About what?"

"Be honest with me, Hanna," Spencer began. "There's something there…between you two."

"Ew," Hanna spat. "That's like saying there's something between you and Jason."

"Jason is my _brother_," Spencer argued.

"Exactly!"

"And that's all you regard him as?" Spencer demanded. "A surrogate brother?"

"If I knew what 'surrogate' meant, then probably, yeah." Hanna was avoiding her eyes as she began flipping absently through the brochure. Spencer had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't really looking at it.

"You can tell me anything, Han," Spencer repeated softly. Hanna paused, staring off distantly into space.

"It would mess everything up," Hanna stated simply.

"Mess what up?"

"I've never had someone look after me the way Holmes does," Hanna began, turning to face Spencer as she explained herself. "It's really special to me. And all the…_feelings_ aside, I need that kind of person in my life right now."

"Boyfriends look after you, too," Spencer insisted.

"It's not the same," Hanna scoffed. "Boyfriends look out for you because they love you. That's like…an ulterior motive. They _have_ to do it."

"But he does it already and he's not your boyfriend," Spencer pressed.

"I'm done talking about this," Hanna said suddenly, pushing the pamphlet back into Spencer's hand and standing. "Let's order these flowers and get to the dress shop. I have homework to do."

"For your new photography class?" Spencer inquired. She planned to live vicariously through Hanna this semester, as her own double major and minor left very little room for the artsy electives she yearned to explore.

"No." Hanna hesitated. "I'm dropping that class."

"What?" Spencer demanded. "Why? I thought you were looking forward to it so much!"

"Teacher's a bitch," Hanna explained simply.

"So? You can out-bitch anybody, any day," Spencer fought. "You can hold your own."

Hanna whipped around to face Spencer, her eyes glinting dangerously. "Do you seriously have nothing better to do today than get into my business?" she demanded harshly. "God, Spencer, for once in your life, _butt out._"

Spencer blanched. Hanna's comment had been nothing short of unexpected. She nodded vaguely as she stepped up to the counter to place the order. Hanna said nothing.

In fact, Hanna said very little for the rest of the day. The only exception was at David's Bridal, when Spencer stepped out of the dressing room in a beautiful wedding gown with an intricate train and a dazzling sequin bodice. Then, and only then, Hanna gushed aloud.

"You will be the most beautiful bride to ever walk the planet," Hanna stated lovingly as she straightened Spencer's veil. "It's perfect."

However, once back in the car, it was radio silence. Hanna once again became a steel trap.

When they arrived home, Spencer despondently grabbed her dress and trudged upstairs to her and Toby's bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Hanna guiltily lowered herself onto one of the bar stools in the kitchen, burying her face in her arms. She hadn't meant to be such a bitch…truly…but she _needed_ Spencer to forget about that stupid photography class. And she knew that if Spencer kept asking questions, she'd eventually break. And she'd tell her everything. And she had already made the conscious decision to avoid precisely that.

"What can I get for ya?"

She raised her head to see Holmes on the opposite side of the bar, slinging a towel over his shoulder as he mockingly role-played a bartender.

"A double Margarita," Hanna pleaded, letting her head fall against the counter once more.

"I only have beer," Holmes replied apologetically. "Seriously…do you want one?"

"No. Alcohol only makes me more depressed," Hanna reasoned, lifting her head so that her chin rested on her arms. She tilted her view to take a good look at Holmes. "I really messed things up."

"How's that?"

"I was a total snob to Spencer all day. I'm the worst Maid of Honor in the world."

Holmes chuckled, leaning over the bar and grasping one of Hanna's hands in his own. "I'm sure she doesn't think that for a second."

"No. Really. I was a nightmare." Hanna squeezed his hand, gleaning the comfort that his touch always provided her.

"You usually are," Holmes chided good-naturedly. "But we wouldn't have you any other way."

"Ha, ha," Hanna mumbled sarcastically, rolling her eyes in his direction. She paused for a moment, pulling her hand slowly away from his and wrapping her arms around herself protectively. "Holmes…have you ever had to keep something from someone? Something really big? Because you knew that it would hurt them more if they knew, than if they didn't?"

Holmes hesitated, pursing his lips in thought. "This past September. I could have easily not told Cavanaugh about Cody asking Spencer out…I knew it would kill him. But obviously him knowing was what needed to happen."

Hanna scrunched her nose distastefully. "Ironic, that Cody is the culprit behind so many secrets."

"What?"

Hanna chewed on her bottom lip, surveying Holmes's face thoroughly. "I trust you," she stated simply.

"Okay…" Holmes shook his head in confusion, awaiting her continuation.

"Seriously," Hanna added. "I trust that you won't say anything. To anybody. Not Toby…not Spencer…not even the barista at Starbucks."

"Okay, okay," Holmes consented, failing to suppress a slight chuckle at her surreptitiousness.

Hanna took a deep breath. "Cody's out of jail."

It was as though Holmes had been struck in the back of the head with a sledgehammer. His eyes instantly bugged out and his mouth fell agape, astounded.

"What?"

"Out," Hanna repeated. "He's in my photography class…but I'm dropping it."

"And you're not going to tell Spencer." It was a statement, not a question. However, it was loaded with judgment.

"He asked me not to," Hanna said pathetically. Holmes scoffed in indignation. "No, I mean, he said he's just finishing up the semester and then he's out of Michigan. For good. And he doesn't want to bother anyone…and in exchange, doesn't want anyone bothering _him_."

"And you took his word for it?" Holmes demanded, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. He looked fit to jump out of his own skin. "Hanna! Don't be an idiot!"

Hanna recoiled, as if slapped. "I'm doing what I think is best."

"_Telling_ her is best!"

"How?" Hanna practically shrieked. "Scaring the shit out of her all over again, after how far she has come? How is that possibly best?"

Holmes hesitated, seemingly at a loss for a counterargument. However, he was still silently fuming.

"She's been my best friend for five years, almost six," Hanna continued. "I think I know what she can and cannot handle emotionally. Toby comes home in five days! She has a wedding in three weeks, Holmes! This is not the kind of present I wanted to give the newly weds. Sorry if I'm being an _idiot_ about it."

Holmes was flexing his fists irritably, staring off towards the staircase.

"I can't tell you what to do," Hanna resigned softly. "If you feel like you have to tell them, do it. But it breaks my heart to think of her being scared all over again when things are finally going her way."

Holmes exhaled heavily, a hint of a growl in tandem.

"If he comes around here…If he so much as comes within three miles of this house…"

"Then he breaks his end of the deal," Hanna concluded. "And all bets are off."

Holmes seemed to accept this as leaned against the bar counter once more, appraising Hanna's expression. There was a pregnant pause as Holmes buried his pride. He looked at her thoughtfully before speaking at last.

"I shouldn't have gotten so angry with you. You're right…you're trying to do what's best. I didn't mean to be such a tool."

"You usually are," she echoed of his previous comment. "But we wouldn't have you any other way."

Holmes smirked cheekily. "Touché."

Hanna sighed, pushing her stool away from the bar. "I should probably go talk to her."

"And say what?" Holmes reasoned. "You have no explanation for her right now…Just let it blow over. She'll talk to you when she's ready to forget it."

"You're right," Hanna agreed. She tapped her fingernails on the bar top. "I'm starving."

"Me too," Holmes stated. "Chinese and Blockbuster rentals?"

"My favorite kind of date," Hanna laughed, reaching for her purse. "Been dying to see the new _Paranormal Activity_…"

"Agreed," Holmes said. "The best part of scary movies is watching you jump. That's the most entertaining part of the night for me."

Hanna jokingly punched him in the shoulder, grabbing his Carhartt from the coat tree and tossing it in his direction. "Just for that, you're driving."

**_CONT'D_**


	5. Forbidden Activity

**_A/N:_**_ Sorry that the wait has been so long! Life has been hectic, as usual. Please enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong><span>CHAPTER 4<span>**

_Aristotle once said that friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies. Two halves of a whole, two peas in a pod, and all sorts of other clever turns of phrase. _

_If that's the case, why do friends insist on hurting each other so often? How can you rationalize being blatantly harsh to someone who shares part of your own soul? Is that not indirect masochism? _

_I wish I knew what was bothering Hanna so much that she'd lash out that way. _

Spencer leaned back in her computer chair, cracking her neck and reading over the journal entry she had written. What Hanna had said to her at the flower shop had struck a precise nerve. Writing about it seemed the ideal way to express her feelings, for she would likely never tell Hanna herself.

Spencer had been chastised by her family her entire life for inserting herself in the business of other people. She distinctly remembered the time in elementary school that she had caught Melissa making out with Eric Kahn on the bus. She immediately ran to tell her mother, who, as usual, was on Melissa's side.

"_Spencer, it's not lady-like to put your nose where it doesn't belong,"_ her mother had succinctly stated. Melissa's indiscretions were never discussed again.

It had been all about concern. It wasn't gossip, or being a tattletale. Spencer had been genuinely worried for Melissa's wellbeing. And rightly so, as three weeks later Eric tried to cop a feel. Melissa, who stuffed her bra at the time, had been mortified by the rumors that began circulating about her. She spent a good month holed up in her room crying over the incident.

And all Spencer had tried to do was prevent something like that from happening.

It had been the same with Hanna today. She only badgered her because she wanted her to be happy. Wanted the best for her. But she had a bad tendency of coming off as obscenely overbearing. She didn't necessarily blame Hanna for feeling violated.

She took a deep shaky breath, opening her email. Though she and Toby only got to talk on the phone once a week, he had frequent access to the Internet. It had been one of their primary methods of communication throughout the duration of his deployment.

There was an unread message. A balloon of joy swelled inside her heart, making it feel as though it would burst in excitement.

_Dearest Spencer,_

_Only a few short days left now until I see your beautiful face. We will be heading back stateside soon, and I can't wait to be closer to you. _

_I've been thinking about you all day, and how I can't wait to hold you in my arms. I miss the way you feel, the way you smell….having all of that back will be the ultimate homecoming gift. _

_I hope you've been taking care of yourself. Don't stress too much about the little stuff. It all gets resolved in due time. _

_I love you,_

_Toby. _

He always knew what to say. It was as though reading her mind had become a routine practice. Without fail, every time she was feeling concerned or upset, he provided her with the perfect affirmation that she needed.

He was right. The little things never lasted long. Within a couple hours, she was sure Hanna would be back to her bright, perky self. And they would be back to normal.

She typed a quick response to him before closing her laptop and stretching. Her eyes flickered over to the wedding dress she had purchased, and she felt herself involuntarily smile. She made her way over to the David's Bridal gown bag that hung so out of place in the closet. Gently running her fingertips over the nylon bag, she began imagining what it would feel like to wear it for real. On the actual wedding day, walking down the aisle to meet Toby at the altar. Tiny tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

She couldn't wait to make her love for him official, in front of their family and friends. It was truly going to be the best day of her life. Everything would be all right when he got home.

* * *

><p>Hanna was on the edge of her seat in anticipation. She continued to peek through her fingers, which covered her eyes, unsure of whether she actually wanted to see what would happen next. Her plate of orange chicken lay forgotten on the coffee table in front of her. Her fear had made her quickly lose her appetite.<p>

What appeared to be a child imitating a ghost with a bed sheet on was creeping up behind the babysitter. An ominous sense of foreboding was settling in the pit of Hanna's stomach, putting her adrenaline in overdrive.

"That's one of the kids, right?" Hanna pleaded desperately. Holmes impatiently '_shushed_' her.

And suddenly, the bed sheet dropped to the floor, revealing that some intangible entity had been embodying the child-like shape inside of it. The babysitter whipped around to be met with a lifeless, flat piece of bedding lying mysteriously on the floor.

"Oh, my God!" Hanna shrieked, letting both hands fly to her eyes now to cover her view. She buried her face in Holmes's neck in sheer terror.

Holmes guffawed in amusement, putting a comforting arm around Hanna's back and patting her on the opposite arm.

"I told you that this was the best part of watching movies with you."

"Shut up," Hanna whined, playfully batting him on the chest. "Don't tell me that you would not be the least bit freaked out by that happening to you!"

"Sure I would, if ghosts were real," Holmes quipped.

"You don't know that they aren't," Hanna defended indignantly, raising her head to meet his gaze. "There are all kinds of strange things that the living can't explain…"

"The _living_, huh?" Holmes rolled his eyes. "I guess next you're going to tell me that you also believe in zombies."

Hanna furrowed her brow in seriousness. "You never know."

Holmes chuckled, extracting himself from their embrace and standing. "I need a bathroom break. Pause it, will you?"

"Yeah," Hanna muttered, reaching for the remote. As he left the room, she felt suddenly uneasy. The lights were off to make the movie more suspenseful, and with the film on pause she was also now met with a precarious silence.

She curled up on the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees, taking deep breaths. It was only a movie…it was only a movie…

But was it? Hanna had experienced some very questionable conversations with the ghost of Alison DiLaurentis in the past. Drugged up on painkillers or not, the experience had seemed eerily realistic. There had even been lipstick prints on the cup of water beside her hospital bed. Jungle Red lipstick prints. Ali's color.

She was almost certain that her interaction with Alison had been real. Or some version of 'real.'

The sensitive hairs on the back of her neck stood up suddenly, alerting her to the fact that someone had entered the room. Her breath hitched in her lungs, and she refused to turn around.

"Holmes?" she murmured meekly, a tremor involuntarily creeping into her voice.

Silence. Trying to slow her breathing, she slowly turned around to glance behind the couch. Directly behind her was a figure in a bed sheet.

She cried out in alarm, launching herself up from the couch faster than she ever thought humanly possible. And suddenly, the ghost doubled over in laughter.

"I can't believe you actually fell for it," Holmes breathed through hysterics, pulling the sheet off of his head. It took a moment for Hanna's panicked brain to piece together what had happened.

"You asshole!" she shouted incredulously, marching over and punching him repeatedly in the chest. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Holmes laughed, tears of mirth trickling down his cheeks. He grabbed both of her wrists in his hands to cease her attacks. Hanna struggled against his hold.

"Let go of me!" she said stubbornly. "I'm in the middle of kicking your ass!"

"Oh, is that what you call it?" he responded cheekily, amused at her attempt to wriggle free.

"I swear to God, if you don't let me go this second, I'm gonna – " Hanna paused suddenly, rendered speechless as she finally met his eyes. It was strange, the way they had caught her so off-guard. She had never really noticed the color of them before. They were a light, soft brown, beautifully complementing his skin tone.

"Gonna what?" Holmes inquired, though he had calmed down considerably as well. The sapphire depths of Hanna's irises were likened to being lost at sea.

"I'm gonna…I'm gonna…" Hanna was struggling to finish her long-forgotten threat.

And then, before Hanna could even realize what was happening, Holmes suddenly went in for the kill. His lips crashed onto hers, melting to meet the shape of the kiss. He still held onto her wrists, which had all but gone limp in surprise.

She concentrated on the taste of his mouth, which was vaguely akin to coffee and peppermint. Neither Sean nor Caleb had ever kissed her like this before. It was direct yet gentle. Blunt yet soothing. Somehow Holmes's kiss felt distinctly like his personality, all rolled into a single embrace. It seemed to epitomize their entire relationship all at once.

And then, it was over as soon as it had begun. He was staring at her now, his expression appearing torn.

She was feeling much the same way.

"Wh-why did you do that?" she stuttered dizzily.

"I don't know," Holmes answered quietly, looking just as perplexed as she felt. He released her wrists and stepped away from her, as if putting an ample amount of distance between them would resolve any ambivalent feelings.

She had difficulty meeting his gaze, resigning to studying the upholstery of the couch. "Are…are we allowed to do that?" she asked uncertainly.

"I don't know," Holmes repeated. She was desperate to see the look on his face, but was intensely frightened of meeting his eyes. She was vaguely aware that if she looked at him, she might want to kiss him again.

And that was the problem, in and of itself – she had _enjoyed_ it. That shouldn't have been possible. He was one of her best friends. He had taken care of her in a way that nobody else ever had. He could read her cues in a fashion that made it seem so easy, despite the fact that other people usually misinterpreted her. Including Spencer. It was such a special bond for her, something unprecedented in her life. How could she rationalize feeling romantically attracted to him when it could threaten the very core of their connection?

"I'm sorry," she murmured softly before heading hastily for the staircase. Her legs were whisking her away before she even knew what was happening.

At the top of the stairs she nearly collided with Spencer, who blushed pink in response.

"I'm sorry – I didn't mean to eavesdrop – "

"You saw?" Hanna demanded sheepishly.

"I mean – I was – I was coming to get some water…" Spencer winced, tilting her head in Hanna's direction. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," Hanna muttered, feeling a stinging sensation behind her eyes.

"It's okay, it's okay…come with me…" Spencer grasped her hand and began to lead her down the hallway to Hanna's room.

Hanna squeezed her hand tightly, hoping to silently convey to Spencer that she was sorry for her behavior earlier. She didn't want her to be angry, or to ever feel that Hanna would intentionally hurt her…

Spencer squeezed back, indicating her understanding. She pulled Hanna into her room and led her to the edge of her bed, sitting beside her.

"Okay," Spencer began slowly, visibly sensing Hanna's internal panic. "Start from the beginning and tell me what happened."

**_CONT'D_**


	6. Confessions

**CHAPTER 5**

"He left," Spencer announced as she re-emerged from the hallway, a gallon of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream and two spoons in hand. She surreptitiously closed the door behind her, despite the fact that beyond it the house was now empty.

Hanna peered at her through puffy eyes. "Where did he go?"

Spencer sighed. "I found a note on the bar. Said he was going to run some errands."

"Errands, huh?" Hanna chuckled mirthlessly, rolling her eyes. "Running off, is more like it."

Spencer winced apologetically as she resumed her seat beside Hanna on the bed, burying her legs beneath the covers.

"Ben & Jerry's," Spencer declared. "I found it in the freezer, leftover from the C.B. Hibernation." The highly punctuated 'C.B.' stood for 'the Caleb Breakup,' and was Spencer's new method of avoiding Caleb's name when talking with Hanna. It seemed easier for Hanna to discuss it when she turned it into an ambiguous abbreviation.

"Thanks," Hanna murmured, sniffling, as she took hold of the ice cream and one spoon. She greedily pulled the lid off and set it aside on her nightstand.

Spencer twirled the other spoon in her hand pensively. "So, he just – kissed you? Out of the blue?"

"Yeah," Hanna agreed through a mouthful of dessert. She swallowed so that she could continue. "One minute things were normal, then the next…"

Spencer considered this for a moment before replying. "Well…I mean…how was it?"

Hanna practically choked on a mouthful of ice cream as she squeaked indignantly. "Spencer!"

"Well, come on!" Spencer insisted sheepishly. "You have to have some kind of opinion about it…I mean, seriously – either you enjoy a kiss or you don't. Simple as that."

Hanna furrowed her brow stubbornly, licking the green treat from her spoon. "I don't know, it's complicated!" she whined. "I liked it, but at the same time, it shouldn't have happened. It was perfect, but stupid. I can't explain it. It's like forbidden fruit, ya know? It tastes good, but you can't help feeling guilty."

"What do you have to feel guilty about?" Spencer asked incredulously, studying Hanna's face. Mascara stains had dried on her delicate cheekbones, tarnishing the perfect makeup she always tried to uphold.

She took a moment to respond, stirring her spoon absent-mindedly in the carton. "We just…_shouldn't_."

"Give me one good reason."

Hanna glared at her. "Can't you just take no for an answer? Ever?"

Spencer smirked. "I wasn't the captain of the debate team for nothing."

Hanna chewed her bottom lip intently. "Okay. Reason number one: we're friends."

"Toby and I started as friends. Even you and Caleb started as friends. Moot point. Next."

"We live in the same house."

"That's not a problem, that's a bonus," Spencer scoffed. "Next."

"We…uh…well…I just got out of a long-term relationship."

"One that had been suffering for months. You've been emotionally ready to move on longer than you think you have. And Holmes has been the only person who has even come close to making you believe that." Spencer buffed her fingernails on her hoodie. "I can't help but feel that much of your argument is contrived. But nevertheless, please, proceed."

Hanna rolled her eyes and growled, annoyed. "Fine! I don't have any good reasons. None that you can't immediately crush, anyway." She dejectedly jammed her spoon into the ice cream and pushed it away, folding her arms. "I guess I'm just…scared."

"That's how most relationships start, Han," Spencer pressed. "The unknown is always frightening. We show our vulnerability to someone and we feel immediately naked and scrutinized."

Hanna chuckled. "Heh…naked…"

"Hanna, focus."

"Sorry. Part of me is still stuck in middle school, back when dirty words were awkward and funny." Hanna shrugged.

"I know," Spencer said, scoffing impatiently. "Like that paper I helped you write last semester…you laughed at the phrase 'civil duty' for an hour."

Hanna pressed her hand to her lips, stifling laughter. "Duty."

"Stop it!"

"Okay! Sorry!" Hanna pulled a face much like one a teenager would display to her buzz kill mother.

A moment of silence settled between them before Spencer took the leap to break it.

"So…what are you going to do?"

* * *

><p>The car ride seemed to be lasting an eternity. Holmes could tell that his passenger was anxious for it to be over, fidgeting and making unnecessary adjustments in the mirror.<p>

"You're sure she doesn't know?"

"Positive," Holmes groaned. They had had the conversation multiple times already, and he was admittedly growing sick of it.

"She'll be so pissed if she knows I'm with you."

"She'll get over it," Holmes grumbled irritably. He fiddled with the radio to distract himself. His passenger studied him intently.

"What the hell crawled up your ass and died?"

"Nothing," Holmes muttered. He quickly checked his blind spot before merging onto the off ramp. There was silence for a second.

"What's going on?"

Holmes sighed resignedly, knowing he would have to talk about it eventually. However, the conversation didn't seem fitting in present company…

"Things are getting complicated with Hanna."

There was a pause of surprise, and perhaps tacit disapproval. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think you're the person I should be talking about this with," Holmes insisted, attempting to save face. The skyline of downtown Ann Arbor was visible on the horizon. He was only a couple short minutes away from home.

"It's okay. Really. You have to talk about it with someone…"

Holmes studied his passenger once more, chewing his bottom lip in thought. "Are you sure it doesn't upset you?"

"It's fine. I swear."

"Well…I kissed her today."

There was another pregnant pause. "Why would you do that?"

"I don't know," Holmes murmured. "It just…happened."

"_How_ could you do that?"

"Look, I'm sorry," Holmes insisted as he turned onto his street. "I told you that you didn't wanna hear this."

"Well…what does it mean?"

Holmes studied the road before him, unable to meet his company's eyes. "I don't want this to ruin anything."

"Doesn't seem like you've really thought that part through."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Holmes bellowed, unable to contain his frustration any longer. "It's been a long time coming! I've been attracted to her for a while. I just haven't been able to admit it to myself."

His passenger was now slouching in the seat, arms crossed bitterly. "I swear to God, if you let this get in the way…"

"I know."

There was another round of silence.

"You have _got_ to stop thinking with your dick."

"It's not like that," Holmes growled. "I care about her."

"When did this start?"

"I told you. A while ago. It's just been hard to digest."

Holmes turned his car into the driveway, unable to think of any more salient arguments that he could provide. He felt unbearably guilty about the entire situation, and felt foolish attempting to justify it.

His passenger was staring angrily out the window. "Well, I guess this is it. Time to let the cat out of the bag."

"I'll get your stuff," Holmes decided cordially, getting out of the car and approaching the trunk. He extracted a suitcase and a duffel bag, feeling that this gesture was one of the only ways to make his apology known.

His passenger leaned against the door, thoughtfully looking up at the stars.

"It's a nice night."

"Yep," Holmes agreed half-heartedly as he began to walk up the porch. He looked back at his companion apologetically.

"Look…I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make this any more complicated or stressful for anyone…"

"Tell that to Spencer."

Holmes winced. "She actually sorta seems on board with it…"

"Are you kidding?"

"She seems to think it's good for us. It would be nice if you could feel the same."

An awkward silence followed for a moment. "Fine." They both began to walk towards the door, but his passenger held it shut to make one last comment. Blue eyes shot acidic daggers into bronze. "But we're not done talking about this. We'll finish the conversation later."

Holmes nodded shortly before offering a hesitant smile. "I'm glad you're home, Cavanaugh."

Toby allowed for his lip to turn up only slightly, clapping his hand on his best friend's shoulder. "I am too. And you're sure Spencer has no idea?"

"None. I told you a million times."

"She may be fine with this Hanna thing now…but if you let it ruin the wedding, she's going to kill someone. You don't know her like I do."

Holmes chuckled darkly. "I'm starting to learn."

Toby sighed heavily, smirking at Holmes. "Can't wait to see the look on her face."

Holmes returned the gesture. "It was a good idea to keep it a surprise, man."

With that, they pulled the door open and breached the threshold.


	7. The Nature of Love

_**A/N:** Sorry for the wait, guys! I'm only a few short weeks away from getting my Master's degree, and I've been quite busy. I've also recently read the entire Hunger Games trilogy. Sheer and utter brilliance. I wrote a fan fiction for it if you're interested. I'd love some additional feedback. _

_Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 6<strong>

"So wait, let me get this straight," Spencer repeated, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. "You're going to avoid him…to show him how much you like him."

"Exactly!" Hanna declared, throwing her hands in the air as if to display excitement that Spencer finally understood. The side of her mouth puckered as she blew a wisp of hair out of her eyes, doodling hearts around the '_PROS AND CONS OF DATING HOLMES' _list that Spencer had tried to facilitate. She hadn't written much – the paper mostly consisted of girly sketches.

"Okay," Spencer began slowly with a heavy sigh. "I really hope you know that to anyone else, it sounds completely counterintuitive."

"Counter your _own_ 'tuitive'," Hanna said defensively, trying to hide the confusion on her face.

"No, Hanna – I mean – it doesn't make a damn bit of sense."

"Of _course_ it does!" Hanna protested, setting aside her notebook to devote her full attention to her explanation. "You see, if you ignore someone and pretend you're not interested, that's when they figure out how much they like you!"

"I seem to recall you trying that with Sean Ackard," Spencer scoffed. "And I also seem to remember it not ending well."

Hanna scrunched her nose in disdain. "Sean had rocks for brains," she insisted. "_Nothing _worked on him."

Spencer rolled her eyes at the current irony of her statement.

"Besides," Hanna continued, feigning confidence, "once Holmes gets a look at me tonight, he won't be able to keep his eyes off me."

"Tonight?" Spencer demanded. "Wait – why? – What's tonight?"

Hanna's face turned scarlet in an instant. "Uh…family night?"

"Family night?"

"Yeah! The three of us," Hanna sputtered. "One big, happy family."

"Hanna," Spencer pressed urgently. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Panic descended on Hanna's face. She looked desperately around the room, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You know…it's…well…" She jumped off the bed suddenly when she heard the door opening downstairs, forfeiting her attempts at explaining. "Coming, Mom!"

"Hanna, your mom isn't – " Spencer began, but before she could finish, Hanna had already raced out the door. Spencer sat alone for a moment, dumbfounded by the current insanity of her best friend. Determined to figure out the source of Hanna's instability, she stood up hurriedly, stomping into the hallway.

"Hanna, I swear to God – I don't know what you have up your sleeve, but – "

Spencer stopped dead at the sight that lay before her at the top of the stairs. She instantly pinched herself to check her state of consciousness, her heart leaping into her chest. All the pinch resulted in was a sore bruise developing on her skin, for the mirage did not disappear.

There stood Toby in his army uniform, smiling ear-to-ear.

"Hey, beautiful," he stated softly.

The sound of his voice broke her from her reverie. In a flash she had vaulted from her stance in the hallway, catapulting herself into his arms and wrapping both legs around his waist. He stumbled a bit in surprise, grasping onto the banister with one hand and chuckling.

"You're home!" she declared stupidly, absorbing the scent of his skin and the feeling of his heart beating against her breast. If this was a dream, she was going to be sure to commit this moment to memory. Just in case.

His hands massaged small circles on her back, pulling out of the hug enough to gaze into her eyes. He brushed a stray hair from her face, planting a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. This did not suffice for her, however, as she hungrily dove for his mouth. He stumbled once more, losing his footing completely this time. In a flailing knot of limbs, they tumbled down the first few steps to the landing, laughing in surprise. Spencer was on top of him now, straddling his hips. She propped herself up on her elbows to proceed with her questioning.

"How did you? – When did you? – Did anyone else know?" she stuttered pathetically, feeling as though her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth.

He laughed. "One thing at a time, babe," he said, raising his lips to hers. This kiss was less dangerous, and Spencer took her time with making it count. She nibbled softly on his lower lip, indulging in the feeling of his hands on her hips. It was over as soon as it had begun.

"I told Holmes a few days ago, when I got the news," he explained, kissing her between breaths. "He didn't tell Hanna until today."

"Oh," Spencer breathed, realization dawning on her. "Oh, that sneaky bitch…Family night, my ass…"

"What?"

"Nothing," Spencer dismissed, unable to mask the good-natured resentment in her voice.

"Already? Seriously?"

This new voice startled them both as they turned towards the bottom of the stairs. There stood both Hanna and Holmes, grinning like Cheshire cats.

"Get a room," Hanna added to Holmes's comment, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

"You two," Spencer began, using the best angry voice she could muster with her heart beating as wildly as it was. She pulled herself into a sitting position, Toby following suit. "You – I can't believe that you – " She paused suddenly, turning over the possibility in her head that Hanna and Holmes had been faking the entire altercation tonight. However, upon longer examination, she did see that they were avoiding one another's eyes. They were together at this exact moment for the mere sake of creating a pleasant atmosphere in which to celebrate a once-in-a-lifetime moment.

"Can't believe Hanna didn't say anything," Holmes jeered good-naturedly, but still did not look at her. Hanna rolled her eyes, crossing her arms indignantly.

"She came pretty damn close, there," Spencer protested. "Right at the end of our conversation." She raised a brow in Hanna's direction. "What did _your mom_ want?"

Hanna smirked slightly. "It was the best thing I could come up with on the fly," she insisted.

"All right, all right, you two lovebirds take your time," Holmes began, taking Hanna by the shoulders and wheeling her in the opposite direction. "We really are going out tonight to celebrate, though, so be ready by 10."

Before Spencer could protest, they had already gone from the room. She was content to simply lie in his arms for the rest of the night…However, she owed it to Hanna and Holmes for helping orchestrate the whole thing. They were excited, too. And she'd have the rest of her life to hold him, now.

Toby stood up brusquely, reaching a hand out to assist Spencer to do the same. She accepted, feeling the bolts of electricity shooting through her fingers as she did so. Silently he led her to the room they shared, glancing back at her occasionally as if he also needed reassurance that her existence was real.

He took a seat on the bed, beginning to unlace his boots. She took the liberty of closing the door and turning the lock purposefully, giving her best attempt at a sexy saunter in his direction. His eyes were on her immediately, roving her body with a gaze. The fire in her belly was beginning to consume her as she realized he was mentally undressing her.

"I missed you so much," he murmured softly as she sat on his lap, wrapping her legs around his thighs. He buried his face in her hair, planting short kisses down the side of her neck. She shuddered involuntarily, releasing a small sigh of enjoyment. Judging by the arousal pressing against her thigh, he was instantly on the same page as her.

He leaned back and trapped her lips with his own, softly molding the shape of his mouth to hers. She carefully swept her tongue against his, delighting in the taste of the kisses she had missed so dearly.

His hands were working their way under her t-shirt, gingerly reaching upwards towards her shoulder blades to pull her closer. With one gentle shove by Spencer, Toby was on his back, staring up at her, his azure eyes burning with love and desire. He gripped her buttocks with both hands, pulling her up to his hips where the sensation was more pronounced for both of them. She moaned quietly at the ripple of pleasure that seized her body momentarily. It wasn't enough – she needed more.

She was fumbling with the military-issued belt that separated his body from hers. Her hands shook in a mixture of excitement and nervousness, creating a far more difficult task than necessary.

"They make _everything_ as hard to get into as Fort Knox, huh?" she joked quietly. Toby chuckled into her shoulder.

"No amount of tower guards could keep me from making love to you," he whispered. The moisture of his breath at the crease of her neck made her shiver once more. As if to illustrate his point, he effortlessly detached his belt, kicking his pants off instantaneously. Impatient, Spencer was already quickly disrobing herself. Before she knew it, they were both completely naked, taking a brief moment to drink in the beauty of the other's body.

Then, in one swift movement, Toby had grasped her under the armpits and flipped her over onto her back. He hovered over her, brushing her hair from her face with one hand. "You're so beautiful," he murmured.

"I love you," she replied. And then, she couldn't wait anymore. She curled her fingers around the chain of his dog tags and drew his face back to hers once more.

* * *

><p>One glass of wine wasn't enough, Hanna realized quickly, as she began pouring a second. She and Holmes were silently watching reruns of <em>Family Guy<em> on the television, impatiently attempting to patiently wait for their friends to be ready. She knew that they needed – well, _couple_ time – but it didn't change the fact that their timing couldn't have been worse. There was most assuredly an unnamed elephant in the room, making an attempt to squeeze between them on the couch.

She had pointedly sat as far to one end as possible, and noticed that he did the same. The second glass of wine was gone almost as soon as it had been poured, and she was reaching for the bottle again.

"Hey, hey," Holmes protested, reaching out to snag it from her grasp. "Take it slow."

She scrunched up her face indignantly, yanking it back from him. She did not say anything else, but merely eyed his third beer purposefully. If he was going to drink, so was she.

He sighed heavily, watching as her trembling hands strived to steady themselves for pouring. The wine was in danger of missing the flute entirely. Without completely considering it, Holmes had reached out to hold her pouring hand steady. Warmth traveled from his fingertips and through her arm, causing her alcohol buzz to flutter all-the-more.

"Got it?" he asked quietly, studying her face. She could feel his eyes burning into her, but she purposely ignored their gaze.

"I'm fine," she insisted, but allowed him to finish helping her pour. When he had pulled his hand away, an inexplicable chill ran through her body. It was likened to the echoing inside a tin can – an emptiness returning to its natural state.

They were silent once more.

This lasted for several minutes, broken only by a brief bumping and giggling noise from upstairs. Hanna smiled somberly to herself, realizing that she had not seen her best friend as happy as she had been tonight. Though Toby and Hanna had never been close, she could feel her own heart swelling at the vision of his homecoming today.

Holmes was also looking towards the ceiling, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "They don't waste any time, eh?"

Hanna laughed involuntarily, then covered her mouth as soon as it had happened. This action made the situation even more awkward, as she had attempted to stifle her reaction from him.

This didn't go unnoticed by Holmes. He exhaled heavily and set his beer down on the coffee table with a heavy _clunk_, looking to her for explanation.

"Listen…Hanna…about earlier – "

"No," she blurted instantly before she had thought it through. She knew he was right – they should talk about it. But something inside of her was too scared to carry on with this conversation right now.

"I have something I need to say," he persevered firmly.

"I don't need to hear it," she insisted, standing and making her way to the kitchen. For what, she didn't know. Space, perhaps.

He was following her anyway. She pretended not to notice him as she began rummaging through the cupboards for something to eat, like potato chips. Comfort food. Something to distract her brain and her hands.

But he had gripped her by the shoulders and wheeled her around to face him. There was a fire bleeding from his eyes, a look she had never noticed from him before. It was both frightening and strangely exciting all at once. If she was being honest, his dominant side was a bit of a turn-on.

"I'm only going to say this once, and then I'm going to let it go," he began sternly, releasing his grip from her shoulders. His hands curled around the curves of her jaw, below her ears. A strange humming noise accompanied this contact. She could not have protested again even if she wanted to – the touch was almost debilitating.

So instead, she waited quietly for him to continue.

"You are the most aggravating – most incomprehensible, stubborn, crazy…_beautiful, generous_ person I've ever known," he declared. The pseudo-anger in his voice was rapidly disintegrating, leaving tenderness in its wake. He absent-mindedly brushed her cheekbones with his thumbs, his eyes exploring the angles of her face. Despite his apparent distraction, he swallowed hard and went on.

"You have no idea the impact you have on people," he said quietly. It was almost a whisper. A pin drop would have prevented her from hearing him. "You have so much love for everyone around you. Your heart is big enough to make room for everyone you meet, so much so that you often forget to make room for yourself. You watch other people and envy their happiness, but you sublimate it into something selfless. Like tonight. Helping Toby surprise Spencer."

Hanna's heart was racing wildly now, her breath caught in her lungs. He did not stop.

"Your smile lights up the room, even when it's fake. And it's fake more than people realize. You have a smile that you use when you're feeling heartbroken…but people don't know how to tell the difference. But I know how. You have such high expectations for yourself and your life, and you're devastated when something doesn't add up. Your favorite movie is _The Notebook _because it's the epitome of what you think love should be. No facades, no games, no pretenses…just pure, honest faith in a person."

Tears were pricking at the corners of her eyes. She was attempting unsuccessfully to hold them back.

"Let me tell you something about me," he was saying, his eyes flashing wildly with determination. He licked his lips to gauge his own confidence before continuing. "I have never had a good relationship in my life. I go for people that I feel like I have to save – people who are broken, and flawed, and in desperate need of mending."

Hanna shook her head fervently. "Holmes, _I'm_ broken…"

"But you're not," he said firmly, smoothing her hair down to the sides of her face, taking her chin in his hands once more. "You're amazing because you put the broken pieces back together yourself. You don't need help – you don't want help. You just want someone to hold her hand while you do it. And I've been there to see it."

The warmth of the tears trickling down her cheeks was sobering. The effects of the wine had worn off almost entirely now. "You're my best friend," she replied. Even in her heart, she knew it was true – she loved Spencer dearly, but Holmes always _got_ her…

"You're mine too," he stated, smiling softly. "And the best relationships start with best friends…"

She peered into his eyes, seeing now that they were shining with moisture, too.

"I love you," he announced confidently before taking a step back to give her the space to think this over. "I love you, and I'd be an idiot if I didn't at least see where this could go."

Hanna did not reply. Sobs wracked her body, making it hard to breathe, much less talk.

"It's okay if you don't want the same things," he added quickly. "But I've always been an honest man – and I don't plan to stop now."

With that, he began to leave the room.

Hanna grabbed desperately onto his wrist. "Wait."

He turned to her, his jaw squared in frustration. She could tell in his eyes that there was hurt – hurt that she had not responded right away. Hurt that she had been crying rather than smiling.

She wanted to say it. Wanted to say the three words that would comfort him – would seal everything up in a nice package with a neatly-tied bow. But somehow, they got stuck in her throat, beaten like a drum by the persistent tremors of her heart.

So instead, she flung her arms around him, planting her lips on his. As before, there was a sense of familiarity – like this was a place she had belonged forever. Like déjà vu in its purest form, insinuating that her lips had been here before, in a lifetime past.

He reciprocated the embrace, lifting her up into a sitting position on the counter. He stood between her legs, holding her face in his hands like a delicate porcelain doll. He was gentle, there was no doubt about it. Fiery – but gentle.

When it was over, Hanna paused to stare at him. He stared back, and she knew he was awaiting some sort of verbal response. She should have known better – kissing him wasn't going to be enough to get her out of "the talk." She would have to say something. Anything.

"I'm confused about love," she said at last. She felt instantly stupid as it came out of her mouth, and rushed to amend it. "I mean – all of this Caleb stuff…it's just…so…"

"Fresh," Holmes finished, sad realization dawning on his face. His brow was creased guiltily. "You're right…I'm sorry."

"I think I want this though," Hanna continued desperately. "I'm sorry I can't tell you that I love you…but I can't stand to lose you. I can't stand the thought of you being with anyone else, ever. I don't know if I want it to be me…but you don't make sense with anybody _but_ me." She inhaled sharply. "Does that make sense?"

He smiled a bit, rubbing away a tear from her eyes with his thumb. "As much sense as a normal Hanna Marin explanation."

She batted at his shoulder indignantly, insulted for only a moment before cracking a smile.

"It's okay," he repeated. "I know it will be worth the wait."

And something about the way he said it made her want to kiss him again. She leaned forward to do so, but he stepped back.

"When you're ready," he decided. He ran his hand through her blond curls quickly before retreating from the kitchen.

So there she sat on the countertop, nearly hyperventilating in confusion, going over her mental "pros and cons" list in her head.

_Pros: Great friend. Great kisser. Best complimenter ever. Great smile. Great sense of humor. Takes care of me. _

_Cons…_

And suddenly, there was only one.

_I'd die if I ever lost him. _


	8. Wrench in the Machine

_**A/N:** Based on some reviews, it seems that there had been a bit of confusion._

_Holmes has been mistaken for Holden. No relation whatsoever. Also, some people are a bit confused about how Holmes fits into the picture._

_I strongly recommend you read my first fan fiction, "**Somewhere With You**." This is the sequel to it, and I think certain characters and situations will make much more sense if you look at it._

_Thanks guys!_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 7<strong>

There was an undeniable spring in her step now. No doubt about it. As Spencer gently extracted herself from her fiancée's sleeping arms, she felt a bubble of joy inflating in her chest. It was as though her heart was undergoing a rebirth. All of the holes and hollows were being patched up, replaced by unabated happiness.

She gazed at him for a moment, soaking in his beauty. The definition of his pectorals and abdominals was only more pronounced as he breathed in and out mid-slumber…his perfect, pouted lips parted slightly as if awaiting a kiss. A mere corner of the blanket was drooped over his middle right now, covering only a portion of his pelvic area. The curves of his defined hip bones formed a delicate "V" shape that ultimately pointed downwards to his hidden manhood. A shiver of desire traveled down Spencer's spine. She had just made love him only moments before – but she desperately wanted to do it again.

But he looked so peaceful. She could not bear to wake him – even for that. Instead, she pulled a blue sundress from her closet, as well as new undergarments to put on after her shower. The dress was Toby's favorite. It didn't even matter that there was still snow on the ground outside. She would handle it tonight, for him.

She put on her bathrobe and quietly vacated the area, closing the door softly behind her, and headed down the hall to the bathroom. As she began to run the shower, she realized that, pathetically enough, she already missed him. He was only a room away – and yet she pined for his company.

She stepped under the stream, sighing involuntarily at the sensation of the water cleansing her body. It felt like ages since she had had a shower this enjoyable. _Everything_ was more enjoyable, now that he was home.

She had been in there but a moment before she heard the bathroom door open and close. She paused nervously, hoping that Hanna and Holmes wouldn't be foolish enough to come in while she was here.

"Leaving me all by myself?" It was Toby. And something about the rasp of his voice made her insides contract. She heard the lock click behind him distinctively – and seconds later, he was stepping into the shower with her.

"I'm sorry," she began, unable to stifle a smile. "I didn't want to wake you."

"Dreams are never as good as the real thing," he protested. He placed his hands on her hips to guide her closer to him, the streaming water pouring down all around them. Her heart leapt into her throat as she gazed down at him – all of him – the parts that had been covered by the blanket in the bedroom. She was amazed that the sight of his naked body could have such a debilitating effect on her, and fought to control the shaking of her knees.

She leaned upward to kiss him softly, the beads of water intermingling between their lips. The pressure of his groin pressing against her hip was dizzying. How could she want him again with such desperation, so quickly? It was as if today's lovemaking hadn't even happened yet.

He caressed her back lovingly, instantly easing any tension that may have been previously present in her muscles. Then his hands traveled around to delicately explore the curvature of her breasts. She moaned quietly into his mouth. The heat in the shower was no longer merely a source of the hot water – it was also the unbridled passion electrifying the both of them into submission.

In one swift movement he hiked her legs around his hips, backing her into the wall of the shower. His lips traveled down her neck and to her collarbone. She bit her lip expectantly. He knew this was her favorite spot.

"I love you," he murmured into her skin. The stiffness of his arousal pressing against her inner thigh was enough to send her into a frenzy. He had a horrible tendency of keeping her waiting.

"I love you too," she replied huskily, grabbing him by the back of the neck to force his lips onto hers. She hungrily explored his mouth, indulging in the noises he made in response. "I want you," she whispered, grinding herself against him seductively.

He swiftly repositioned her to ease his access. A hot, searing fire rose from her stomach as he began to oblige her.

* * *

><p>It seemed like an eternity for Holmes before Spencer and Toby had finally returned to the land of the living. He had been impatiently awaiting the moment when they would finally get out of the house and escape the awkward situation that he had idiotically placed himself in.<p>

They now sat at the bar – Good Time Charley's, to be exact, the precise booth that Spencer and Toby had reunited at – picking at their food and indulging in alcoholic drinks that he and Hanna desperately needed. He was having a very hard time not looking at her – she was wearing form-fitting black pants and a satin pink halter with a plunging neckline. Her boobs were staring at him, and it was all he could do not to stare back.

Cavanaugh was in the middle of an animated story about some experience overseas. Holmes had admittedly not been paying attention so far.

"…and Jergens came running butt-ass naked out of the latrine, screaming about how the mouse tried to violate him."

Spencer and Hanna were laughing so hard that tears were seeping out of their eyes. Hearing the punch line, Holmes suddenly wished he had heard the rest of the story. He feigned laughter to appear engaged, but felt that his attempt fell flat. Once the laughter had diminished, Cavanaugh addressed him.

"Have you heard from Lancaster at all?" he asked, taking a swig of his beer. Holmes shook his head.

"Not in a couple months. He'll be here for the wedding, though. He said he already has his tux."

"Great," Toby said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I appreciate it, man." It must have been hard for him to leave much of his wedding planning in Holmes's hands – but then again, it was the duty of the best man. He owed it to Cavanaugh to pull it off without a hitch.

"Yeah," Holmes began half-heartedly. "No sweat."

He took a hesitant sip of his beer. Toby raised a brow, as if to ask what was wrong. Holmes shook his head discreetly, turning away to look at the dance floor. He could feel Cavanaugh's eyes burning a hole in his skull. Spencer and Hanna were giggling about something – undoubtedly some girly wedding shit – unaware of the silent conversation that was happening before them.

"I love this song," Spencer declared, rising from her chair and pulling Hanna up alongside her. She gently rubbed Toby's shoulder. "Let's go dance!"

"You guys go ahead," Cavanaugh offered with a grin. Spencer returned the gesture, swooping down to plant a short kiss on his lips. And then, she and Hanna disappeared into the crowd of college students.

It was as if he had been holding his breath throughout the entire meal. Suddenly he exhaled, feeling substantially more relaxed without Hanna flaunting herself directly across from him.

"What's going on, dude?" Cavanaugh asked suspiciously. Holmes winced, unsure if he was willing to divulge the disaster that this night had begun with.

"She's making me insane," Holmes stated shortly. He did not elaborate, but instead grabbed a shot glass from the waiter's tray. He didn't know what it was, but he tipped it back anyway. Jägermeister. Nasty. It burned all the way down his esophagus.

Toby was looking behind him at the girls on the dance floor. Spencer waved at him enthusiastically, her hips swaying to the beat.

"I know what you mean," he stated suddenly. He, too, grabbed a shot glass from the carrying tray and downed it in one. His faced twisted into a displeased wince.

"At least you get to be with yours," Holmes protested. "I told Hanna I love her."

Toby stared at him. "And?"

Holmes shook his head shortly, raising the bottle to his lips for another sip. The liquor was bleeding through his veins now, giving him a decent buzz to work with.

Toby furrowed his brow. "Ouch."

"No shit."

"Now what?"

"No idea."

That was the extent of the conversation between them. They didn't need fancy words and elaborate explanations like girls did. In fact, that was probably what Hanna was talking to Spencer about now: they had retreated to the bar stools, nursing some fruity drinks, and seemed deeply immersed in conversation.

"Fuck it," Holmes decided suddenly, downing the rest of his beer and slamming it definitively on the table. "I'm done with it all. I'm going to be gay now."

The extent to which Cavanaugh began hysterically laughing indicated that he, too, was experiencing a degree of inebriation. "Don't look at me, man. I'm quite all right with my current position."

"What position might that be?" Holmes asked cheekily. "Doggy style?"

Toby was still laughing, which surprised Holmes a bit. Normally he would probably get protective over any sort of insinuation about his and Spencer's sex life.

"No, seriously," Toby said between chuckles, "It's great to be back. When we were taking a shower earlier, I was thinking that – "

"Oh, God," Holmes declared in realization. "You guys had sex in the shower today, didn't you?"

"What?" Toby sputtered sheepishly. He made a dismissive raspberry noise with his lips. "Nah. No."

"You dick," Holmes said good-naturedly. "We all use that shower!"

Once again they were taken over by a round of heavy chuckles. Holmes was thoroughly enjoying the moment until his buzz was killed almost entirely.

He couldn't have predicted it in a million years. In fact, up until this moment, he had forgotten about the threat of it entirely.

But lo and behold, there he was, returning to haunt them: Jeff Cody had walked into the bar.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, willing Toby not to turn around. No sooner had he thought than Toby was wheeling around to follow his eyes. A look of utter rage appeared on his face.

"What the fuck?" he demanded with a growl, rising from his seat with such fervor that he sent his chair clattering to the floor. "Holmes, what the fuck is he doing here?"

"I – I dunno," Holmes stuttered stupidly. He was going to play dumb for as long as possible. At least until the animalistic wrath was gone from Toby's face.

Hanna and Spencer seemed to have noticed him as well, for they had hurriedly returned to the table.

"We need to go," Hanna said, sending a pointed look at Holmes. "_Now_."

Spencer appeared to be in a state of shock. This did not go unnoticed by Toby, who was rolling up his sleeves in preparation. She grabbed onto his arm and shook her head ever-so-lightly.

"Hey guys."

Too late. Cody had come up to them. Toby pushed Spencer behind him protectively, eying Cody with such a dangerous glint that Holmes was sure Cody was undergoing some sort of telepathic torture.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Holmes demanded, hoping to take control of the situation so as not to rile Cavanaugh. Cody shrugged.

"Just getting a drink. Not looking to bother anybody."

He did a onceover of the group. Toby stood perfectly still, his jaw squared in determination. Spencer hovered behind him. Hanna was looking undeniably guilty off to the side, her eyes unable to meet any of the others.

"You're surprised to see me," he surmised instantly. He glanced back at Hanna, who would not look at him. "Good to know that at least one of you knows how to keep a secret."

Both Toby and Spencer turned their eyes to Hanna, perplexed. She had flushed a deep shade of red and was clearly holding back tears.

"Well…I'll leave you guys to it," Cody offered awkwardly, at long last moving from his spot. Holmes thought briefly that perhaps Hanna was right, to some degree – he was devoid of any malice, and seemed entirely unwilling to engage in any sort of bar room brawl. It would appear that he did, indeed, just come in to get a drink.

Spencer had come out from behind Toby's grasp, her eyes trained on Hanna. She, too, looked close to tears.

"What did he mean, Hanna?"

"I don't know," Hanna sputtered stupidly. "He's crazy, remember? Jail must have really done a number on him if he thinks that – "

"Don't fucking lie to me, Hanna!" Spencer cried, a bizarre sort of panicked shrill in her voice. Hanna jumped in alarm at her volume, likened to a dog with its tail between its legs. Holmes instinctively moved towards her, putting a tentative arm around her shoulders.

"He's the reason I'm dropping the photography class," Hanna began quietly. Holmes wondered if Spencer could even hear her. "He was there."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Spencer demanded.

"I – I didn't – I didn't want to upset you…"

"You're full of shit," Spencer accused. She seemed to be experiencing a certain rage that Holmes had not seen since she confronted Cavanaugh at the house party last fall. "It has nothing to do with looking out for me! How could you be so…so…_selfish?_"

Hanna's eyes were spilling over now, her breathing becoming ragged and heavy. "Spencer," Holmes began warningly. It was his turn, now, to step in front of Hanna. "She wanted to tell you, but I told her not to – "

"You knew, too?" Cavanaugh demanded, finding his voice. He, too, looked beyond consolation. "How the fuck could you guys keep this from us?"

"He doesn't want any trouble," Holmes said.

"And since when do we _look out_ for _him_?" Toby bellowed. He had never been so angry at Holmes since they had known one another.

"Toby," Spencer started softly, her tears coming wildly now. "Get me out of here. Please."

Without a word, Toby took hold of Spencer's hand, threw a wad of money on the table for their share, and had whisked her out the door.

It was a moment before Hanna spoke.

"Why did you do that? You said that you convinced me not to tell her…but that was _my_ idea. You _wanted_ me to tell her."

Holmes peered at her heartbroken blue eyes before replying. "It's what best friends do when the other is in need."

She quickly wiped her eyes, embarrassed at the presence of her tears. "You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to."

They were silent for another moment.

"I don't think they'll be going back to the house tonight," Holmes surmised.

Hanna shook her head in silent agreement. He knew it stung her the same way it did him. Spencer and Toby were angry – no, beyond angry. They felt betrayed. He couldn't blame them…he would have felt the same at the outset if the tables were reversed. He just hoped that he and Hanna could do something – anything – to make it up to them.

"C'mon," Holmes said quietly, wrapping his jacket around her shivering shoulders. "Let's get you home."

TO BE CONTINUED


	9. To Err Is Human

**CHAPTER 8**

The cold air outside the bar was like daggers on his bare arms. Having loaned his coat to Hanna, he was unprepared to face the harsh winds that swirled around them. However, the feeling of her leaning into him as they walked provided a different sort of warmth that distracted him from his discomfort. It felt almost as though they were back to normal: platonic hugs and cuddles that somehow had a deeper meaning, but were devoid of any underlying awkwardness.

They had barely walked a block when they noticed him – Cody, leaning against a building that was closed for the night, taking a drag on his cigarette. When his eyes met theirs, he stood up, as if to brace himself for a confrontation.

Holmes didn't plan to speak to him. Instead, he began to steer Hanna away, making to cross the street – but suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks, pivoting on her heel to face the man that had ruined her night.

"You're an asshole. You know that?" she spat, marching up to him. Holmes followed behind her warily, trying to take hold of her wrist. She yanked it away from his grasp.

"Pardon?" Cody asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke that swirled around her. If she disliked it, she did not make it known. The tear streaks had left her face a disarray of caked make-up, her hair having fallen into wild frenzy. It only perpetuated the animalistic rage that she appeared to be experiencing.

"You! You walk back into town as if nothing's wrong!" she declared brashly, her voice cracking in slight. "You come here and make me keep a secret from my best friend, and for some reason, I fucking listened to you."

Holmes was trying to steady her now, placing a hand on her hip to guide her away. She pushed him off.

Cody crushed the end of his cigarette beneath his foot, his brow creased in annoyance. "Listen, Blondie," he began condescendingly, "what happens in your happy little group of friends has nothing to do with me. I didn't make the decision for you."

She scoffed indignantly, raising a perfectly-plucked eyebrow at him. "You knew damn well what you were doing," she insisted. "You didn't get what you wanted last time, so you came here to ruin our lives all over again."

He rolled his eyes impatiently. "Don't you think I have better things to do than worry about rewinding my life?" he demanded. "When I said I didn't want trouble, I meant it. So let's just go our separate ways and call it a truce, huh?"

His pseudo-rationality only appeared to frustrate her more. She planted both hands on his shoulders to give him a swift shove. He grabbed onto both of her wrists warningly, a heated fire burning from his pale green eyes. Any semblance of patience that he may have had was gone in an instant.

"Keep your filthy, slutty hands off of me," he seethed, bringing his face within an inch of hers. "And if you want someone to blame, take a look in the mirror, you stupid bitch."

She had yanked free and was rearing back to plant her hand firmly across his face. Holmes, however, was quicker. Cody was on the ground instantaneously, before Holmes had even fully grasped what he was doing. He held Cody swiftly at the throat, his newfound instinct to protect Hanna burning in his ears.

"Holmes, no!" Hanna cried suddenly. She grabbed him by the shoulders in an attempt to pull him away, but he did not budge.

"I think you owe the girl an apology," he said slowly, fighting to control his temper. It was as though his rage had been bottled with a champagne cork, and the pressure was building rapidly.

"She owes me one, too," Cody said defensively. He was holding onto Holmes's wrists tightly, as though willing to fight back if the need arose.

"You first," he said through gritted teeth.

"I've never seen you get this violent without your buddy backing you up," Cody taunted. "Where's Cavanaugh when you need him? Or did you have a lover's quarrel?"

Holmes ignored him. "I don't think you're listening to me. I told you to tell her you're sorry."

"Holmes, it's fine," Hanna protested. She seemed to have reeled in her own anger in order to ground him. "Let's go home."

"Home?" Cody asked with a dark chuckle. "You diddling the dumb blond, now, Holmes?"

The pressure in the proverbial bottle gave way. Hanna could not have kept track of the fists if it weren't for the stark contrast of skin color. In desperation, she dove into the tussle, trying to pull Holmes away. Cody got in a fair few hits, but Holmes was largely dominating the altercation.

"Stop it!" she shrieked. The few people that were still on the street had stopped to look at them. "Stop! You're going to get yourselves arrested!"

At long last, Cody broke up the fight himself, leaping to his feet. Holmes was hot on his heels. Cody shoved Holmes away from him and into Hanna's arms. She dug her fingernails into his shoulder to keep him held back.

"Get out of here before I murder you with my bare fucking hands," Holmes warned. His muscles were tense beneath Hanna's grasp. She could see now that he was nursing a single bruise beneath his right eye, and a mild bloody nose. "Go!"

Cody didn't need to be told twice. He was stomping away, fuming, before Hanna could even completely register all that had just happened.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded at last. However, the anger got lost in her throat. Her question sounded much tamer than she had intended.

Holmes would not meet her eyes. She grasped him by the chin to draw his gaze to hers. Instead of the normal affection she usually saw in his face, there was malice. For Cody, not her – but she felt shaken by it nonetheless.

"He shouldn't have talked to you like that," Holmes growled, shaking his head fervently. She curled her arms around his middle, holding her face into his chest. It took a moment, but eventually he conceded to hugging her back.

"Thank you," she muttered quietly. He did not respond. She could feel him shaking with anger beneath her hold.

"Let's go," he mumbled at last. As he pulled away, he did not wrap his arm around her as he had before the confrontation. Hanna felt a pang of disappointment. She trailed behind him, a shiver running down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature, as they began to head home.

* * *

><p>Spencer kicked off her shoes as they entered the hotel room, seething all the while. Toby had attempted to calm her down the entire way there, but she had been nigh inconsolable. She was furious with Hanna, and was refusing to listen to reason.<p>

Toby, on the other hand, had relaxed considerably. He never stayed mad for long, and this was no exception. He had attempted to rationalize the entire fiasco in terms of their friends looking out for their best interests – trying to maintain the happiness that they were indulging in with his homecoming. With their wedding in a couple short weeks. Hanna and Holmes had never done anything to purposely hurt them before.

Spencer didn't want to hear it, however. She was blinded by the boiling blood in her veins, and had no time for rationality.

"Spence, c'mon," Toby urged softly as he clicked the lock behind him. Rather than reply, she stormed childishly into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Toby sighed heavily, rapping his knuckles against the frame. "Baby…"

"Go away!" she yelled. No matter how much she loved him, she was not always willing to let him see her break down. He knew that she needed space to be alone for a moment, even if it stung a little.

"I'll be out here when you need me," he said in defeat as he traipsed over to the bed. It smelled faintly of mothballs and cigarettes. He kicked off his own shoes and collapsed onto his back, fumbling with the remote control to find something worth watching on the ancient television. It was the kind that still had dials rather than buttons. The sort that his grandparents had when he would visit them as a child.

He heard the water in the bathtub begin to run. She _must_ have been upset. Taking a bath was usually the final straw in the Spencer Hastings recovery process. He considered going to check on her, but knew that if she wasn't ready to talk, she would lash out at him like a feral cat. And frankly, he valued his life.

He settled at last on the news. The reporters were discussing a bombing that had occurred on a base in Afghanistan, not far from where Toby had been stationed. These sorts of newscasts always gave him a harsh dose of reality. He had been in that position only a week or so ago. But somehow, now that he was removed from it and watching it unfold on a television screen in a seedy hotel room, it seemed somewhat surreal.

He had been lucky, in truth. His entire unit had come home, one by one, no lives lost. He had been given ample opportunity to eat and sleep, unlike so many soldiers that went into traditional combat. He sometimes felt guilty that he had had such a "safe" job, for as he watched the footage on the news, there was a distant shame that he had not done all that he could do.

He hadn't talked to Spencer about it much yet. Not really. He knew that she had neglected to ask out of respect for his privacy. She knew he would discuss it when he was ready. Somewhere in the back of his mind though, he wasn't sure he wanted her to know any of it.

"Toby?" she called softly from the bathroom, shaking him from his train of thought. The faucet had stopped running, and she sounded entirely weakened now by her own anger.

Without a word, he headed in her direction. Upon opening the door, he saw her sitting in the tub, her arms curled around her knees protectively. She looked close to tears.

"What is it, Spence?" he asked quietly, taking a seat on the toilet lid beside the bathtub. He reached out to gently smooth the wild wisps of hair that had escaped from her bun.

She took a deep breath, her inhale shuddering involuntarily. "I know she did it for the right reasons," she declared quickly. She could never dwell on admitting she was wrong. She would usually spit it out like an auctioneer. Toby smiled inwardly at this tendency of hers. "But I'm still so mad at her."

"I know, babe," he offered comfortingly, curling small ringlets of her hair around his fingers. "But let's be realistic, okay? Would you have told her, if it was the other way around?"

"Yes, of course," Spencer said immediately, brash indignation seeping through the seams of her voice. Toby merely raised a brow. She "_hmmphed" _irritably in response. "Okay, fine. I probably wouldn't have. Doesn't mean it was the right thing to do, though."

"Maybe not," Toby agreed gently. "But your first instinct would have been to protect her."

Spencer was pouting openly now, looking entirely uncomfortable with realizing she was wrong. Toby could not help but chuckle.

"What is it?" she demanded incredulously, giving her best attempt at a debilitating glare in his direction.

"What's a nice way of telling someone they have a problem?" he asked innocently. She splashed water at him in response.

"Shut up."

"I'm sorry, Spence," he continued, unable to stifle the laughter. "But you live in this world where everything is black and white. You're right – they're wrong. Or, sometimes it's the other way around – and in those cases, you get borderline homicidal."

"Nobody likes to be wrong!" she protested defensively.

"No, they don't," he agreed quietly. "But to err is human, and all that."

She pursed her lips together irritably.

"Your convictions are one of my favorite things about you," he added lovingly, kneeling down beside the tub to look at her more closely. "You stand up for what you believe in. And I love that. But you can't let yourself be controlled by it."

"A Hastings is never wrong," she pressed. "It doesn't equate well for us."

"Maybe not," he reflected. "But it happens. And you have to be prepared for it sometimes."

She looked entirely too fatigued to argue any more. She sighed heavily. "What do you want me to say?"

Toby stood up from his stance and grinned as he offered her his hand. "I don't want you to say anything. I want you to come lay down with me."

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly but took his hand nonetheless. The water splashed slightly around her as she rose to her feet, looking longingly at him.

"I'm sorry I'm such a pain," she said sincerely.

He planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. It was wet from the water. "You're not a pain," he reassured. He began to make his way out the door.

"Just let me get dressed and I'll be right out," she offered.

He turned to her, delivering what he hoped was his most seductive smile. "On the contrary. I'd prefer you as you are."

She blushed in slight as she wrapped a towel around her figure.

He grinned once more. "Don't keep me waiting."


	10. Two Steps Forward, Three Steps Back

**CHAPTER 9**

"Stop squirming and hold still."

"No! It stings, damnit!"

"You're acting like a child. Stop moving."

Hanna dipped the wet rag into the bowl again. The warm water within it had become stained pink with Holmes's blood. She began dabbing at the caked blood that had gushed from his nose following the fight with Cody.

Holmes flinched again, grumbling to himself. Hanna could not help but roll her eyes.

"You got punched in the face, and _this_ hurts more?"

"It's like adding salt to a wound," Holmes protested. The hot water was like holding his face into a roaring fire, making his injuries burn.

"Just let me do one more. Okay?"

Holmes silently obeyed. He watched the concentration in her blue eyes as she began mopping at his cheek once more, using her other hand to steady his chin. She pursed her lips together, focused on the task at hand.

"Aren't you the least bit insulted by what he said to you?" Holmes demanded incredulously. Hanna sighed and set the cloth into the bowl, putting it aside on the coffee table.

"Of course I am," she said plainly, "but I'm not going to fly off the handle every time someone pisses me off."

"Funny you should say that," Holmes countered icily. "Because you were kind of the one that started it."

She blushed slightly in sheepishness, not meeting his eyes. "Yeah, well. I shouldn't have done it. But you shouldn't have finished it, either."

"Someone had to," he grumbled. "I wasn't about to let Cody have the last word."

"It doesn't matter what he thinks anymore," Hanna argued vehemently. "It's out in the open now. So it's over and done with."

"He called you a bitch," Holmes growled. Hanna offered a weak smile in response.

"Wouldn't be the first time someone called me that," she reflected. "It stopped bothering me a long time ago."

Holmes was silently fuming as he turned this over in his head. "It's a dirty thing to call a girl," he insisted. "Nobody should have to get used to it."

She reached out to take hold of his hand, squeezing his fingers. He squeezed back. "Well, I appreciate your chivalry."

"He couldn't be more wrong, anyway," Holmes continued softly. She blushed a bit in response.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They sat in silence for a moment before Hanna opted to change the subject.

"Where do you think Spencer and Toby are?" she asked sadly, glancing at the clock on the wall. It read 3:06 A.M. With a heavy heart, she and Holmes had accepted that they would surely not be returning tonight.

"Hotel room, probably," Holmes said darkly. "I wouldn't worry too much, Han. Cavanaugh doesn't know how to stay mad for long…and he'll rub off on Spencer before you know it."

Hanna snorted. Holmes knew her mind was immediately plunging into the gutter.

"You know what I mean," he said, rolling his eyes.

She was still giggling. "Yeah, I know." Without warning, the smile on her face began to fade; she scooted closer to him and curled up against his chest. He was not complaining, but it caught him off-guard nonetheless.

"You okay?" he asked, absent-mindedly twirling a lock of her blond curls with his fingers.

"I don't know." He could hear the sniffles in her voice. "These past few days have just been a whirlwind of crazy. One minute I'm feeling one thing…the next, something entirely different. I feel like my brain is turning to mashed potatoes."

Holmes chuckled a bit. Hanna could feel the sensation of it beneath the cheek she had pressed against his chest. "Well, a good plate of hearty mashed potatoes is everyone's favorite meal."

She smiled involuntarily. He had a knack of always saying the perfect thing to make her feel better. She rose up slowly to look at him, her eyes studying his face.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked quietly.

He knew what she meant. She did not need to elaborate. He shook his head shortly in despondency. "I don't know. You tell me."

She raised an incredulous eyebrow. Clearly she didn't like the idea of it being left in her hands.

"That's the thing," she began. "I don't know either."

Holmes reached out to take hold of her hand gently in his. She brushed her thumb affectionately over his fingers.

"Well…what are you thinking?"

It was her turn to shake her head. She looked lost. Helpless. "I don't know what I want."

Holmes nodded briefly. He had been expecting an answer of this magnitude.

"Well, I'm okay with waiting."

Frustrated tears sprung to her eyes as she pulled her hand away. "You're not helping."

He did not reply. He wasn't even sure how to.

She impatiently squeezed her eyes shut to push the tears back in. When she opened them, her eyes were clear once more. "You have no idea how hard you make it," she mumbled irritably. "You are always so nice to me…and it just makes me feel more guilty."

"Fine then," Holmes said jokingly, clearing his throat dramatically. "How about this? Don't keep me waiting. I have better things to do. Yada yada. Something like that?"

Hanna laughed out loud at his attempt. "You're not very good at being the asshole."

"I'd like to think I never have been," he answered sincerely.

She sighed heavily. Instantly he knew that he had said the wrong thing, yet again. Instead of arguing, she fell limply against his chest once more.

"Will you just sit with me like this for a while?" Her voice was small and delicate as she asked the innocent question.

He smiled into her hair, planting a kiss on top of her head. "Of course."

* * *

><p>Spencer awoke in a cold sweat, instinctively kicking the blankets off. She had had a nightmare about Cody, one that she had not had in months. He was hovering over her, trying to make her succumb to his advances…It was akin to dealing with the same heartache all over again. And those feelings were most unwelcome.<p>

She glanced over at Toby, who was still sound asleep beside her. She was grateful that her flailing did not stir him.

She stood up and grabbed his t-shirt, pulling it hastily over her bare torso. Even though it was just Toby in the room with her, she was feeling suddenly self-conscious about her body. Something to do with the nightmare, assuredly. She fished through his jacket, knowing that she was more than likely going to find what she needed. Lo and behold, her fingertips grazed the corner of a cigarette pack. With hastened silence, she pulled the pack and his lighter out, hurrying towards the door wall of the hotel room.

Once on the balcony, the chilly night air crashed upon her bare arms. For the moment, she didn't mind. She took a seat on the patio chair and studied the cigarette. She had not had one in months. She distantly remembered a time that she and Wren would sneak around to smoke while he was dating Melissa – shortly after that, she had sworn them off.

But the anxiety that pulsed through her body was frightening enough to warrant one right now. She perched the smoke between her lips and blocked the lighter from the wind.

The first hit reeked of ambiguity – on the one hand, she could feel her lungs crying out in protest. On the other, she felt an inexplicable wave of relaxation spread throughout her body and all the way to the tips of her toes. She leaned back in the chair instinctively.

Hanna was right, in her annoying way. Having discovered that Cody was home had only created an irrational sense of worry and panic. One that she had surpassed long ago as she began to move on. It was like taking two steps forward and three steps back. She was on high alert now. And she loathed his very presence – hated him for putting her back to square one.

The worst part about it was that it made her worry about her standing with Toby. She loved him – there was no doubt about that. Not even a hint of such. But how could she make _him_ commit to someone who was damaged goods? He deserved better than that. He deserved better than fawning over her needy, broken spirit.

No sooner had she thought it that Toby was carefully stepping onto the patio with her. He yawned dramatically and stretched, leaning up against the wall to survey her.

"You must be freezing," he stated simply. No mention of the cigarette in her hand. He must have understood.

"I'm fine," she replied. She kept her eyes trained on the wooden slats at her feet, hoping she was keeping decent control of the despair in her voice.

He came up behind her, using both hands to give her a shoulder massage. Involuntarily, she leapt to her feet, putting ample distance between them. The look of hurt and confusion on his face was enough to make her burst into tears. She fought tooth and nail not to.

"Sorry," she muttered pathetically. She wasn't even entirely sure why she had done it, but immediately regretted that she had. She took a cautious step toward him, suddenly cognizant of the bitter cold lapping at her bare arms.

"It's okay." He shoved his hands into his coat pockets thoughtfully, gazing at her. Uncomfortably she turned away, stomping out the remainder of her cigarette on the ground. "Is something on your mind?"

She scoffed bitterly. "If it exists, it's on my mind," she said sarcastically. Hyperbolic as it may be, it felt truthful. Her brain was flooded with a wealth of information and feelings that she could not comprehend all at once.

"Come here," he offered gently, reaching a hand out to her. He was leaving the next move up to her, which she appreciated. And try as she might to lift her stubborn feet in his direction, they were glued to the spot.

He allowed his outstretched hand to dangle there precariously for but a moment before retracting it, looking even more hurt than he had before.

Spencer felt a lump forming in her throat. She was willing herself not to cry.

"I had a nightmare about that night," she said quietly. She knew she didn't need to elaborate further.

He squared his jaw determinedly. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" she cried suddenly, feeling the build-up of raw emotion clawing at her insides. "I'm outside in the freezing cold, having a cigarette, jumping away from my fiancée when he touches me." She rubbed her forehead tiredly. "Look, I just need some time to myself. Okay?"

Toby's brow furrowed in perplexity, shooting daggers of desperation at her with his sapphire eyes. "What does that mean?"

"It means I need a couple of days," she stated fervently. It hurt to say it out loud, but she knew that it was true. She couldn't put him through the process of managing this pain with her all over again. She would make it right – but she had to do it herself.

"Don't push me away, Spence," he pleaded, taking a step towards her. Without thinking about it, she took a respective step away.

"I just need time. Okay?"

"I can help you," he argued vehemently, but did not attempt to come any closer. "That's what I'm here for. To support you. To be leaned on."

"You're not listening," she snapped venomously. She didn't mean to talk to him that way, but it was just sort of happening. "Go home, Toby."

His eyes searched hers for a sign of hesitation. He found none.

"Are you leaving me?" he asked quietly. His voice was small, like a child's.

She sighed heavily in response, shaking her head. "No." Her voice was considerably calmer. "That's not what I want."

He nodded shortly, but appeared slightly more lightened at this revelation.

"Please," she continued. "Just give me a day or two to get all of this put back together in my head. Okay?"

"Okay." He said the word, but didn't appear to like its meaning. He hesitantly began to step towards the sliding door.

"Toby?" she said quietly. He turned to her expectantly.

"I love you," she offered. He smiled slightly in return.

"I love you too. Forever and always." With that, he had disappeared. To do what, Spencer was unsure. Perhaps he would get his stuff together and head home. Maybe he would ignore her wishes and just wait for her inside, for her to cool down.

She wasn't sure – but she knew that she felt suddenly very alone.


	11. Made of Glass

**Chapter 10**

The sound of a car revving to life outside woke Holmes from his slumber. It took but a moment to make sense of his surroundings, surmising that he and Hanna had passed out on the couch. With a quick glance at the clock on the wall, he realized that it was nearly morning. The sun would be coming up in a couple of hours, and his neighbor was already warming his car to report to work. A crick on his back threatened revenge on him for dozing off in a sitting position.

He gazed down at Hanna, who had fallen asleep against his chest. There was a small smile on her lips as she slept, seemingly involved in a dream that was devoid of any of the daily stress and worry. Temporary relief. Escape. The corners of his lips tugged upward involuntarily as he appreciated her peaceful expression for a moment, gently lifting her away from his body. She grumbled softly but did not stir. He reached for a nearby blanket draped over the back of the couch, tucking it around her frame. Without really thinking about it, he leaned down to plant a protective kiss on her forehead, brushing a stray strand of blond hair from her face.

As he shuffled into the kitchen, the pain in his spine shot upward once more. He stretched dramatically in hopes to ease the angry muscles in his back. They did not appease him, but simply ached more poignantly. He hoped that once he got back into his own bed he would be able to succeed in relieving the discomfort.

The blinding light of the fridge stung his retinas as he opened it. He reached quickly for a bottle of water with his eyes squinted shut, thumbing expertly past a milk carton and a bottle of ketchup to find it. Once relieved of the unwelcome light, he sipped at the water silently in the dark, debating whether he would even be able to fall back asleep at this point.

The back door creaked open. Holmes froze on the spot, instinctively hoping that Cavanaugh and Spencer had returned. In any case, it was either that or he was about to be robbed.

He crept back into the living room to find Toby despondently shrugging his jacket off and kicking away his shoes. There was a look of distinct annoyance on his face. As he slammed the door behind him, Spencer's absence became glaringly obvious.

"Shh," Holmes said quietly, gesturing to Hanna. He jerked his head down the hall towards the den, indicating for Toby to follow. He did so, none-too-willingly, his jaw squared in determination as he shut the door behind him.

"What happened?" Holmes asked immediately. Though he was tempted to inquire whether Toby was still mad, he had the instinctual feeling that the issue at hand superseded their earlier argument.

Toby leaned up against the work desk, rubbing his face with both hands. He looked utterly exhausted. "We went to the hotel. You know…the one we usually go to." He exhaled loudly. "But…she's having hard time with what happened tonight. Not that I necessarily blame her."

"About what? Cody?" Holmes demanded.

"What else?" Toby grumbled.

"Fuck that guy," Holmes replied flippantly. "We're better than that. Letting him control everything in our lives, I mean."

Toby scoffed half-heartedly. "Easier said than done."

"And what do you mean, Spencer's having a hard time?"

Toby shrugged exasperatedly. "Hell if I know. She said she needs some time. And as much as I want to understand it, I don't. I'm supposed to marry her soon. That means I'm supposed to protect her…but she just can't seem to let me." The far-off look in his eyes indicated that half of his head was still back in the hotel room with Spencer.

Holmes creased his brow in worry, crossing his arms pensively over his chest. "How much time?" he asked softly.

Toby met his eyes for only a moment before shaking his head shortly. Holmes understood immediately: he didn't know. He had no idea whether she was referring to hours – days – months. And subsequently, he had no idea what it would mean for their wedding in two and a half weeks.

"If I ever see that bastard again, I swear to God…" Toby muttered under his breath, absent-mindedly massaging his knuckles. When he turned back to face his best friend, his eyes at last studied him more carefully. "Dude, what the hell happened?"

"What?"

"Your eye."

Holmes thoughtfully reached up to his eye, taking a moment to decipher Toby's meaning. "Oh. Fight."

Toby rolled his eyes impatiently. "I gathered that much. With who?"

"Cody," Holmes grumbled.

"What?" Toby demanded. "What the hell did he do this time? I mean, aside from his usual, shit-eating self…"

Holmes felt annoyed all over again as he recalled his earlier altercation with Cody in the street. "He started shit with Hanna."

"You're kidding, right?" Toby asked angrily. The expression on his face led Holmes to believe, however, that no part of him considered this remotely close to funny.

"He called her a bitch," Holmes muttered.

Toby emitted a distant growling noise from deep in his chest, rising to a standing position and beginning to pace. "I'm starting to think there are fewer and fewer reasons that I shouldn't have killed him when I had the chance."

There was a moment of silence in which Holmes contemplated his friend's atypical hostility. Aside from the beating he had given Cody last fall when he had assaulted Spencer, Holmes had never really seen him angry. He wondered silently whether a four-month tour overseas had been enough to change this part of him.

"Dude," he began slowly. The remainder of his thought got caught in his throat, and he let his statement trail off precariously.

Toby did not seem fazed by Holmes's weak attempt at grounding him. He continued to trace a path in the rug as he paced back and forth. "I just wish we could have two seconds of peace. Just two seconds." He groaned heavily and collapsed into a sitting position on the leather arm chair beside Holmes, leaning over his knees and clasping the back of his neck thoughtfully. Holmes merely studied him for another moment before speaking.

"Do you want me to talk to her?" he offered pathetically. He knew the answer already. And even if Toby _said_ yes, what would Holmes say to her? He couldn't solve the problems she was battling with in her brain. The only thing that could solve that was time. And maybe lots of it.

"No," Toby replied huskily. The weakness of his voice made it sound as though he had spent days shouting himself hoarse. He sat up straight to look at Holmes. "There's nothing anyone can do."

Another pregnant pause befell them. Holmes struggled to think of some profound advice to offer, but found none.

"I need to get some sleep," Toby announced at last. The amount of effort it required for him to stand gave him the illusion of an old wizened man. Without another word, he clapped a grateful hand on Holmes's shoulder as he passed, and disappeared through the door.

The subsequent silence was deafening. There was an unwelcome ringing in Holmes's ears as a result, and it made him feel all-the-more anxious about the entire situation. Toby was happiest when he was with Spencer – there was no doubt about that. And the idea that one idiot had the earth-shattering potential to disturb their euphoria, yet again, was mind-numbingly maddening. Cody was a very unfortunate wrench in the machine, his omnipresence haunting their every move.

Holmes weighed his options. There had to be something he could do. Even if it was just checking in on Spencer to assure that she still intended to go through with the wedding. Make sure she was all right.

As he heard Toby's door shut quietly upstairs, he made his decision. He hastily retreated from the den, grabbed his coat and keys from the haphazard pile he had thrown them in next to the couch, and was out the door.

* * *

><p>Sleep had not returned to Spencer Hastings that night. Try as she might to bury herself deep beneath the heavy hotel blankets, curled in a ball to restrain her sanity, she was unable to find slumber. Her brain was on fast forward, and insisted on replaying Toby's departure. However, after re-watching it so many times, she had begun to overanalyze it. The version that last ran its course involved her being quite nastier than she had been, and Toby stomping off far more dramatically than he had. It was like a twisted game of telephone, and each time she tried to look at it objectively, it only grew more distorted.<p>

Instead, she had settled for turning the television on, absent-mindedly channel-surfing. Nothing seemed particularly appealing. Hell, if she was being totally honest, she wasn't even really paying attention to what was flashing across the screen. It was mostly the_ idea_ of engaging in some kind of task that provided some semblance of comfort.

So when the sound of knuckles rapping against the door reverberated to her ears, she was immediately on her feet. Maybe it was Toby, coming to check on her even though she had asked him to leave. With every passing moment, she was regretting her decision more and more. No matter how logical it seemed at the time, her heart ached inconsolably with him gone.

She yanked the door open with more force than she intended. It flew open against its doorstop with a heavy _thud_. There stood Holmes, looking just as down-trodden as she felt.

"Hey," he said simply. She thought briefly about how to greet him, but before she knew it, she found herself throwing her arms around him. Even though in her heart she was aware that having some time alone to think was healthy, his arrival soothed her.

If he was taken aback by her hug, he did not show it. He wrapped his strong arms around her tiny frame and gently rocked her back and forth. With her nose buried in his neck, she caught a faint whiff of cinnamon. This very comforting scent calmed her considerably. It was little wonder why Hanna felt so invariably protected by him. It was his presence – his aura – he exuded empathy from every fiber of his being.

"I'm sorry about what me and Hanna did, Spence," he began. "We thought we were doing the right thing." She shook her head wildly against him to indicate that all was forgiven.

"Forget about that…I just want to go home," she murmured, holding back tears. She could hear her own voice crack, but did not have the energy to feel embarrassed.

When he pulled away, she felt a pang of disappointment. Hugging Holmes was certainly different than hugging Toby, but it made her feel safe nonetheless. Like she would feel hugging a brother. His eyes roved her face quickly as he continued to hold onto her elbows, as if to keep her steady.

"Okay," he said quietly. "I'll get you home."

Without another word, she grabbed her belongings and slipped her shoes on haphazardly, not even bothering to turn off the television. She left her key on the front counter without waiting for the night attendant to notice her. Dizzied with confusion, she leaned against Holmes for support the rest of the way to the car. If she tried to walk on her own, she was certain she would fail miserably.

After helping her into the Mazda and getting into the driver side, he turned the keys in the ignition. The gentle humming of the car coming to life comforted Spencer. She leaned back against her seat tiredly, beginning to feel some small sense of relief. She was no longer alone. And she would be home soon. She could crawl into bed with Toby and beg him to forget everything she said today. Ask him to hold onto her tightly as they slept, to keep the nightmares away. As long as he was beside her, nothing could touch her.

"Did he get home okay?" she asked quietly. She wasn't sure at first if Holmes would even be able to hear her.

"He's home, safe and sound," Holmes assured as he began pulling out of the parking lot. "Worried about you, though."

"I know." Spencer looked distractedly out her window, allowing the glow of the street lights to lull her into relaxation.

"He'd do anything for you, you know," Holmes offered. Spencer trained her eyes on her hands guiltily. "And he'll be there however you need him to. But you have to let him."

"I know that," she said, more venomously than intended. She knew she was taking her guilty feelings out on him. "But sometimes, I need to just follow my gut instincts."

"So does he."

They were quiet for a moment as Spencer let this sink in. Sheepishly, she realized that Holmes was right. She was always asking Toby to respect her needs, but oftentimes this resulted in her disrespecting his. Her immediate instinct tonight was to have time alone. His, of course, was to protect her. And she hadn't given him a chance to express it.

"I'm going to be a terrible wife," she thought out loud.

"Nah, don't be ridiculous," Holmes chuckled. "He loves you more than life itself. That right there makes you the perfect definition of a good wife."

She smiled softly. It was no wonder Hanna was so enamored by his wisdom.

"Thanks," she responded quietly. The silence that followed was one of a comfortable nature, devoid of tension. She allowed it to envelope her whole as she felt her eyelids growing heavy.

"What is this guy doing?" Holmes muttered to himself absently. Spencer followed his gaze up ahead to see a car in the oncoming lane with its lights off, swerving precariously and speeding.

"I don't know, but maybe you should pull over until he passes…"

As Holmes made to do so, a sudden honking startled them both. The car behind him had been following closely, and was now swerving out of the way to avoid rear-ending him.

What happened next was a blur. Though it only took mere seconds to play out, it was as though Spencer was experiencing it in slow-motion. The tail-trailing car jerked suddenly into the oncoming lane, blocking the path of the lightless van ahead. In a frenzy of swerving and dodging, the van was on a direct crash course for the Mazda. Instinctively, Holmes shielded Spencer with his body.

"Holmes!" she screamed. The impact of the van sent the Mazda straight into the guard rail. Holmes was holding tightly onto her, preventing her head from whipping through the window. In his effort to protect her, however, he was left vulnerable. The windshield collapsed, spraying shards at his face. Another lurching of the vehicle sent him reeling backwards. She grasped onto him for dear life. Glass shattered around them in a hailstorm, and Spencer's vision went black.


	12. A Shot in the Dark

_**A/N**: Please be advised that this chapter may contain sensitive material regarding combat scenes from the war in Afghanistan. I tried to make it as objective as possible, devoid of any outlandish judgment. I hope it succeeds in making its point without causing offense or upset._

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><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

So many colors. Flashing lights. A laser light show of blues and reds danced across the dashboard as Spencer came to, dizzily attempting to remember what had happened. Her vision was fuzzy and her brain felt rattled as she tried to make sense of her current position.

She was in a car. If one could call it a car anymore, anyway. Glass was littered in every direction, reflecting the dancing lights in a morbidly beautiful manner.

A searing pain shot through her head at the slightest movement. She absent-mindedly reached upward to her temple, her fingers brushing against several tiny pieces of glass embedded in her skin. Pieces of the window. Or maybe the windshield. She couldn't be sure. Everything came racing back to her in a frenzy…deafening sounds of screeching tires and bending steel.

"Holmes?" she whispered hoarsely, turning her neck towards him. She ignored the debilitating pain that accompanied this simple gesture. The seatbelt crossing his chest had been torn away at some point, leaving only a few strips of fiber hanging from the belt pulley. He was unconscious, slumped over the steering wheel. His figure was illuminated for only a moment as the swirling emergency lights grazed the interior of the car. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his extensive injuries.

Spencer reached out to him, her fingers cautiously brushing the side of his face. She immediately felt a thick moisture and recoiled in surprise. Blood. The sudden smell of bitter rust made her stomach turn. She gagged briefly on a small amount of bile, but nothing more came up.

"Derek," she pleaded again. This time she reached purposefully for his limp hand on the seat beside him, pressing her thumb to his wrist. The thrumming was faint, but his heart was definitely still beating. She felt a small semblance of relief as she realized this. He was alive. They were both alive. That had to count for something.

A new pain startled her, and she looked down to survey the damage. A large shard of glass was lodged in her thigh, emerging hauntingly from a scarlet pool of blood. It had torn straight through her pantyhose, easily, like a knife cutting through hot butter. She touched it for a moment, knowing that removing it could be dire. She had paid enough attention in her AP Anatomy and Physiology class to remember that allowing the femoral artery to bleed openly would kill her in minutes. A surge of panic overtook her, and she found that she suddenly was having a great deal of trouble breathing.

"Door's jammed," an unfamiliar voice uttered. Though Spencer was certain it was coming from right outside the car, it felt far more distant. Like the consistency of a person's speech in a tin-can telephone. The glow of a flashlight swept in through the window, and Spencer's eyes squinted involuntarily.

"Passenger is conscious."

"Help him…please," she murmured, referring to Holmes. When she was not met with a response, she was certain that her small voice had not succeeded in talking over the blaring sirens and the hum of tools being used to cut her door open.

As her consciousness began to fade once more, she was vaguely aware of her seatbelt being sliced away from her body. Strong hands were carefully lifting her from her seat, sending what should have been a blinding pain throughout her entire body. Instead, the numbness appeared to have begun to set in. The pain was present but only distantly so – like the faint tenderness of a bruise that had all-but healed.

The sun was coming up now, she realized. The horizon was painted with a wealth of pinks and purples, but what was more surprising was the deep shade of red. She remembered a poem her father used to tell her as a child.

_Red sky at night, what a delight. Red sky at morning, best to take warning._

Before she could even make sense of its significance, the darkness was enveloping her once more.

* * *

><p><em>Fire blazed all around them, flames lapping hungrily at the night sky. It was bitterly cold in the mountains tonight, but Toby's heavy gear sufficed to keep him warm enough. He clutched his M-16 desperately at his hip as he and his comrades moved in toward the downed helicopter, struggling through the adrenaline to adhere to their training. <em>

"_The northern valley is clear," Sergeant Wilkes announced, waving them in. On command, Toby rushed into the rubble, tearing away at the shattered pieces of the aircraft. The stench of burning flesh lingered heavily in his nostrils, and he became suddenly aware that this smell would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. He had the distant urge to vomit, but fought it off. _

_He continued to dig through the rocks and debris of the mountainside, pulling away what was left of helicopter door. The sight took a moment to digest, but there it was: lo and behold, the Air Force commander of their partnered unit lay face up, coughing profusely in the noxious smoke. _

"_I have a survivor!" Toby cried. He fell to his knees, assessing the captain's condition. With morbid realization, he noticed that the officer was holding despondently onto the cauterized stump that was once his left hand. His breathing was rough and ragged, but he was undoubtedly alive. _

"_Hold on, we're going to get you out of here," Toby coached quietly as he pulled the ointment and bandages from his emergency medical kit. To his surprise, the commander chuckled softly. _

"_I've never missed a landing before, you know." _

_Toby offered a weak smile to the captain as he began to dress his wounds. "Yeah, well," he began bitterly, "I imagine it's hard to ace a landing when you're being bombarded by enemy fire." _

_The trained unit medic was now on his knees beside Toby, unearthing more sophisticated first aid materials. He was calling out orders to Toby to hand him various pieces of equipment, which he was only vaguely aware of. Somehow, his body was instinctively following command nonetheless. It was like a reflex. His mind could make no sense of the words, but he was on autopilot. _

_The medic was injecting the commander with some kind of painkiller out of a syringe. The calming effect must have been nearly instantaneous, for the captain exhaled heavily in relief. _

"_We're gonna get you back to base, okay?" Toby offered. The smoke from the crash was burning his retinas, but he tried as best he could to ignore the disturbance. _

"_You're a good soldier, Cavanaugh," the commander declared hoarsely, providing a half-hearted salute. Toby smiled sadly before saluting back. _

"_Get down!"_

_Again, Toby's body seemed to be quicker to respond than his brain. His face was in the dirt in a split second just as a bullet went whizzing overhead. The attackers had returned – or had been hiding in waiting all along. _

"_Enemy gunfire, 8:00!"_

_Toby crawled desperately towards his M-16, using the rubble as cover. The medic was working in a panicked frenzy now to subdue the captain for travel. Their position was practically providing the enemy with easy target practice. _

"_Get him behind the boulder! Go!" Toby commanded. The medic was already two steps ahead of him, and was surreptitiously pulling the captain away from open fire. Toby and two of his team were on foot, heading in the direction of the source of attack. The mountainous terrain was proving difficult to navigate, for Toby found himself being nearly tripped up by loose rocks as he ran. _

_Just as he, Wilkes, and Jergens reached the line of trees, another round of gunfire began. They dashed expertly behind the foliage to evade. From the sounds of it, there was only a single shooter in the woods. _

"_Around back," Jergens suggested, jerking his head towards the thickening forest. Toby and Wilkes were close behind him when it happened. A memory that Toby would never forget, for as long as he would live. _

_Wilkes was bludgeoned in the back of the head by the butt of the enemy's rifle. He fell almost immediately to his knees in a half-conscious daze. The attacker pointed the barrel of the gun straight into the back of Wilkes' neck, prepared to shoot him execution style. _

"_**Wadarezha**__!" he cried wildly. "__**Mah shora! Ka ne daz kawam**__!"_

_Jergens immediately dropped his weapon, holding his hands upward in surrender style. The look of distaste on his face was unmistakable. _

_The enemy looked at Toby now incredulously, a dangerous glint in his eye. "__**Salaayee ta bendaaz**__!"_

_Toby was frozen in fear. He knew that the vermin wanted him to disarm himself. Wilkes was looking at him pointedly, as if to give silent command to attack in spite of his fate. Toby had the distinct feeling that the enemy was bluffing – if his gun had any remaining ammo, he would have certainly unloaded by now._

_The attacker continued to shout at him in Pashto. Words he could not translate fast enough. And suddenly, as the man grew more frustrated, he made his decision. _

_He couldn't tell anyone to this day exactly how it panned out. But with a swift somersault in the direction of his sergeant, Toby somehow provided distraction enough. The man was firing blindly in Toby's direction. So much for bluffing. He had obviously not had extensive training with his firearm, however, and was burning bullets carelessly as he continued to miss. Jergens had retrieved his own gun. He was raising it to eye level, taking aim…_

_**BOOM. **_

The obnoxious ringing of his phone shook him from his superficial slumber. He shot up in bed, feeling around his body to ensure that all parts were in tact. He had fallen victim to a cold sweat, chills racing up and down his spine. He dazedly looked around to see that the faint light of morning was pouring through the spaces of the curtained window, and he wondered absent-mindedly who would call him at this hour from this unrecognizable number. He grabbed the phone exasperatedly, flopping back down to his pillow.

"Hello?" he muttered.

"Hello, is Toby Cavanaugh available?"

"Speaking." He rubbed his face tiredly, attempting to make himself more alert. The recurrent nightmare of his experience overseas left him feeling more exhausted than he had before he had lied down.

"This is Dr. Tate from U of M hospital."

This simple statement sufficed to wake him the rest of the way. He sat up in bed immediately, breath hitched in his throat. Before he could entirely decipher what this phone call meant, the doctor continued.

"Your number was listed under I.C.E. for a…" The pause the followed might as well have lasted for several hours, when in reality it was only a moment. "Spencer Hastings."

The circulation of his blood stopped. The nightmare he had had before was nothing compared to the feeling of despair that immediately enveloped him now. An involuntary shiver ran through him as the feeling in his fingers seemed to disappear. A guttural instinct told him to hang up and immediately go to her, but he fought with his rational brain to hear the rest.

"She's my fiancé," he confirmed fearfully. "What happened? Is she okay?"

"She was brought in thirty minutes ago with injuries sustained in a car crash."

The caller had barely gotten the sentence out before Toby was on his feet, yanking his pants on with one hand.

"How is she?" he demanded, willing his wildly beating heart to calm.

"She's stable."

Those words alone provided a semblance of relief. She was alive. That was the most important part.

"She has a variety of injuries, but all of them have proven manageable. We had to give her a blood transfusion. Her body is taking it well."

"Good," Toby breathed. He was at a loss for any additional words. At least she was okay, for all intents and purposes. Relieving as it was, it did not suffice to eliminate the panic he felt. He wanted to be by her side, nonetheless. She would need him. And if he was being honest with himself, he needed to see with his own two eyes that her heart was indeed beating.

"She was the passenger in the vehicle that was struck. It's registered to a Derek Holmes," the doctor continued.

"Yeah…yeah, he's my best friend," Toby agreed slowly. The cold fist around his heart tightened once more. He was now pulling a shirt over his head desperately, practically throwing everything off the nightstand to locate his truck keys.

"I'm afraid Derek is in critical."

Tears sprung immediately to the corners of Toby's eyes. A series of questions were racing through his mind, but for the life of him, he could not concentrate long enough to pick one.

"I'll be right there," he said simply instead. He shoved his phone haphazardly into his jeans pocket, finally locating his keys on the floor. He began to chant to himself in his head: they were alive. They were alive. First and foremost, this was good news. This silver lining alone would have to provide him some hope. It was the only notion that kept his confidence from buckling – kept him from collapsing into a piteous heap on the floor. He had to stay calm. He simply _had _to.

He pulled the door open violently, taking the stairs two at a time all the way to the first floor, completing the process of buttoning his pants as he went. Hanna was just waking up, stretching sleepily on the couch.

"Toby?" she asked quietly. There was a look of confusion on her face. He was sure she had several questions about whether he and Spencer forgave her – if they were still mad – but she asked the most pressing one first. "What's the matter?"

Pulling his coat on proved to be far more difficult than it should have been, but he had all but lost the feeling in his hands. He numbly grasped onto it, shoving his arms through.

"What's wrong?" she demanded more fervently, kicking her blanket away in a mild panic. "Where are you going?"

What was he supposed to tell her? Her sleepy blue eyes probed his face worriedly, looking entirely young and innocent from her peaceful slumber. His eyes were burning now as he gulped heavily, steeling himself for the task at hand.

"Spencer and Holmes were in an accident," he said. The words felt foreign in his mouth, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue.

Hanna blanched, but was on her feet in an instant, grabbing her own coat. If she wanted answers, she didn't ask for them. She sympathized with his urgency and matched his haste, silent tears seeping from her eyes.

Toby grabbed her hand supportively, pulling her alongside him to the car.


	13. As Easy As Breathing

_**A/N:** Thank you for the wonderful reviews, my dears. You truly give me inspiration to continue writing. I'm so glad that you all have enjoyed it so far. _

_Onward!_

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><p><strong><span>CHAPTER 12<span>**

The emergency waiting room chairs were severely uncomfortable, and they had already been sitting in them for over two hours. The doctors insisted that Spencer needed to rest before having visitors, and all news about Holmes had been kept underwraps thus far. Instead, they were pointed in the direction of the waiting room, practically suffocating on the bleak air within. It was a dreary, despondent place. No matter what hospital they would have gone to, the disheartening atmosphere would have been the same anywhere. Waiting rooms in the emergency wing were hauntingly depressing. Rooms that had housed dashed hopes. Lost loved ones. The ghosts of unfathomable tragedy.

Toby had strived to remain strong for Hanna, who seemed all but hysterical to learn about Holmes's condition. She was practically swimming beneath Toby's jacket, a far-off look in her wet, bleary eyes.

"I brought you some more coffee," he offered gently as he sat beside her, holding out the Styrofoam cup. She took it silently with a small smile of gratitude, raising it to her lips to sip at. She immediately made a face.

"This coffee tastes like piss," she complained half-heartedly.

"Yet, you keep drinking it," Toby chuckled darkly.

"I don't know what else to do," she replied with a defeated shrug. "I have to find something to keep me busy."

"I know," he stated sympathetically. He leaned against the back of his chair, ignoring the feeling of the muscles tensing in his body. It was as though he had been flattened by a steamroller, then haphazardly fluffed out again to his proper shape. His body parts felt foreign and his organs were in all the wrong places. His heart had been pumping in his stomach for some time now, and he had barely even been able to localize his own brain…

"What's taking so long?" Hanna demanded impatiently, pulling Toby's coat around her figure more tightly. He had offered it to her when he realized that the hospital was unfamiliar with proper climate control. They could have both sworn the air conditioning was running, even though it was mid-January in the Midwest.

"We might have to wait until Holmes's dad gets here," Toby uttered thoughtfully. "We're not family…they can't technically tell us anything."

"Well, when will he be here?" Hanna asked, a meek crack breaking through her voice.

"He's coming from Georgia, Han," Toby reasoned sympathetically. "But he got the first flight out. It won't be much longer."

"I can't just sit here though," she declared with a feverish shake of her head. "It's driving me insane. Soon they'll have to admit _me_. To the psych ward."

Ordinarily, Toby may have laughed at this. But he knew that Hanna's attempt at humor had fallen flat even in her own eyes as she considered the likelihood of this scenario actually happening.

"As soon as he gets here, we'll have some answers." He patted her on the knee to show his support.

Hanna's face scrunched up once more in disdain, her tightly pursed lips attempting to hold back the sobs in her throat. Toby reached out to put an arm around her. She immediately leaned her head into his neck, clutching the front of his t-shirt in one hand. It was as though she was afraid of letting anyone else out of her sight, and the mere gesture was keeping him anchored to her.

"It'll be okay," Toby murmured gently, rhythmically rubbing her shoulder to soothe her. Only, he didn't _know_ if it would be okay. He hoped it would – he had never been a religious man, but he had been pleading with God all night to _make_ it okay. But the last thing he wanted was to divulge his doubts to Hanna. She was already in so many pieces.

"I can't help but think about the last conversation I had with him," she reflected tearfully. "He told me he'd wait for me…and I just dismissed it, like I have been all along."

Toby grimaced slightly as he envisioned this taking place. Holmes had never been very preoccupied with the notion of dating. In fact, Toby had often wondered if he had been burned in the past, like himself. If he had someone at home, like Toby had Spencer, who still carried his heart. He didn't know much about the situation that Hanna and Holmes were facing, but her mere statement gave him a strong indication of how Holmes felt about her.

"You can't get down on yourself," he began. "You couldn't have possibly known that this would happen…just because you had an honest conversation with him – told him how you were feeling – doesn't mean you did the wrong thing."

"But I _did_," she argued fervently through the quiet sobs that escaped her throat. "I took him for granted. Just assumed that he'd be there when I made my decision. And now…"

"Shh," Toby interrupted. The last thing she needed was to finish this disparaging thought. "Don't think about the 'what ifs.' Just focus on what you'll say to him when he wakes up."

She hiccupped dejectedly, her labored breathing bordering on hyperventilation. She pulled away to look at him, impatiently pushing tears away from her cheeks.

"You don't understand," she insisted. "He loves me…and I just continue hurting him."

Toby was on the defense in an instant. "I understand that perfectly, actually."

There was a moment of silence as she considered this. She looked away sheepishly, her silence confirming his accuracy.

"Besides," he continued with mild annoyance. "This isn't about you. Don't sit here and feel sorry for _yourself_ because you feel guilty." He didn't mean to speak as harshly as he did, but Holmes had always stuck up for him. And instinctively, he would always do what he could to repay the favor.

"I don't feel sorry for myself," Hanna defended gently. "I feel sorry because I should have told him sooner that I love him, too."

Her sudden declaration caught Toby off guard. Any and all pearls of wisdom were immediately lost in the catacombs of his mind, and he simply continued to stare at her silently.

"I've known for a while," she added, releasing a shuddering exhale. This seemed to signify the end of her tears for now. She was looking thoughtfully at her hands in her lap, as though she had spotted something interesting in her palms. "But it's hard to let yourself love someone when the last person you loved broke your heart. You know?"

Toby nodded absent-mindedly. He knew precisely what she meant. Had he ever needed to move on from Spencer and start from scratch in romance, he would have assuredly felt held back for months. Maybe years.

"It's not all as easy as you and Spencer make it look, Toby," Hanna murmured. She pushed a lock of frizzy blond hair out of her face as she turned to look at him. "Most of us have to try harder at love than you do." This comment could have easily been delivered with volatility, but Hanna instead delivered it with admiration.

"It hasn't exactly been easy for us, either," Toby protested. Hanna shook her head quickly.

"I don't mean the time you guys spent apart. Or even the crap that went on back in Rosewood. I just mean…love. You love her. She loves you. That piece of it is such second-nature for you guys that it's as easy as breathing."

He could not, in good conscience, deny that. He agreed with her. Loving Spencer was just…part of who he was. Like an arm or a leg. He had never had to second-guess how he felt about her. It was simply in his DNA.

Hanna seemed to recognize this revelation on his face, for she offered a sad smile of triumph. "You would do anything for her, Toby. I know that. I will tell you right now – I don't know anybody else who could have kept their relationship going strong during a deployment. And I mean that."

Toby took a deep breath. He was speaking before he even realized what words were coming out of his mouth. "She was always on my mind," he admitted distantly. He would not be able to meet Hanna's eyes for this one. "Every second of every day. She was my reason to survive." He scoffed bitterly at his own statement. "Not that I was really in danger very often, but you know what I mean. There was this one time…"

He could feel her eyes burning through him, straight into his soul. He continued.

"There was…there was a day that my team was on night watch. We came across an Air Force helicopter that had been shot down."

A breath hitched in Hanna's throat. He knew her attention was focused unfailingly on him.

"Then a second attack came out of nowhere. It was like something out of a horror film. The blood pounding in my eardrums. The smell of dying flesh. I thought for a good few minutes that we wouldn't make it out of there. Maybe it sounds melodramatic….but it was my first combat over there. The only one, actually." He took a deep breath to continue. "And all I could think about was her face. The image of her being informed that I didn't make it back. It was enough to break anyone's heart. And because of it, I wasn't about to let that night be my last."

"What happened?" Hanna whispered attentively.

"We killed the attacker," Toby declared. It was the first time he had said it out loud. Ever. He had attempted to admit it to himself several times, but had always backed down. "And not a day goes by, now, that I'm not haunted by it. I know that we did it for the right reasons. That I had to take part in it if I ever wanted to come home to Spencer. But you never quite understand what it's like to watch a bullet go through a man's head and come out the other side…until you've seen it with your own eyes."

Hanna grasped at his knee with her hand, squeezing tightly. He wasn't sure if this strength was for his benefit or hers. She was horrified by his confession, clearly. But not at his behavior. No. She understood that. It was the idea of the choice that he was faced with that was bothering her.

"I can't tell you that you did the right thing," she began quietly. "Not because I don't think you did. But because even if I say it, it won't make a difference in your head. It has to be something you trust, yourself. But Toby…nobody should ever have to go through any of that. Ever."

Her brief speech was more comforting than any pep talk he had given himself. A measure of weight was suddenly lifted from his shoulders. A certain amount of it would always stay there, to some degree…but this was the closest he had gotten to tasting the moral freedom of redemption in months.

"If I lose her…" he began hoarsely, a sob lodging in his throat. "If I lose _either_ of them…"

"I know," Hanna interrupted, immediately taking him in her arms. Toby piteously buried his face in her shoulder, crying with an intensity that had only existed in his childhood. He felt vaguely pathetic as he collapsed into her, like a toddler would his mother, but found himself too exhausted to really care. She clutched onto him protectively, and he could hear that she, too, had begun to cry once more.

"You're amazing, Toby," Hanna crooned. "You are literally the bravest person I've ever known. You've taken so much shit in your life…and you're still human. You're still alive."

_I'm still alive_, Toby repeated silently. He wasn't sure he had completely believed it until Hanna had said it just now. He had always felt irreparably broken, beyond repair. After his mom died, he had somehow lost touch with reality. Only Spencer had ever been able to ground him. To show him that despite hardship, life had to go on – and it could go on in such a beautiful fashion.

But despite her success in saving him, a part of him had always still felt detached. Like a piece of him was still standing over his mother's lifeless figure on the kitchen floor, an empty bottle of sleeping pills cupped loosely in her hand.

Spencer had never realized that she helped him as much as she did. He had been wondering for some time before her if he would simply end up like his mother: chronically depressed and disgusted by his own life. He had fantasized before about the ways he could end it. How he could make it happen most painlessly. Most quickly.

And then, one afternoon, the most beautiful valedictorian that Rosewood Day had ever seen was standing on his porch, holding his mail and a French book in hand. He had silently appreciated her ethereal beauty from afar, but had never acted upon it. But here she was, now. And his own life – his own logic – had ceased to make any sense. She had reached out to him in his darkest hour, the epitome of divine intervention. If there was a God, He had clearly sent an angel Toby's way, in the form of Spencer Hastings.

And she had only continued to give him purpose from there. The first time he kissed her in the motel parking lot. The first kiss that had ever meant anything to him in his entire life. The first time he made love to her. The ecstasy that accompanied that memory was so much more than carnal, animal desire. It was the manner in which the strength of the bond between their souls had grown. Flourished. He remembered her running her hands across his chest and whispering how much she loved him. And it was the first moment he had ever felt as though he was worth something. He was no longer just a miniscule blip in the vastness of the universe – he was the man that Spencer Hastings had chosen to devote herself to. And whether he deserved her or not, the pride that accompanied earning her love was enough to sustain him a lifetime.

He slowly pulled away from Hanna, sheepishly digging the balls of his hands into his eyes to dry any remaining tears. Hanna continued to squeeze his shoulder supportively, silently letting him know that she was there to listen. And, more implicitly, that the topic would never be breached again without his permission. So in return, he curled his fingers around hers. He hoped this sufficed to show his unyielding gratitude.

"Whatever happens," he began quietly, barely recognizing the rasp of his own voice, "you _will_ get your chance to tell Holmes. I promise."

Hanna's lips tugged upward only slightly, but he could see the light in her eyes as she interpreted his meaning.

"I'll be holding you to it, Cavanaugh."

They shared a chuckle, then. It was weak on both ends, and required a great deal more effort than it should have. But it felt nice nonetheless.

"Mr. Cavanaugh?"

The sound of this new voice all but caused Toby to leap out of his own skin. Dr. Tate had entered the room, a small smile creasing his wizened face. Toby stood hastily.

"Spencer has been asking for you."


	14. The Broader Definition of Family

**CHAPTER 13**

_Spencer has been asking for you_.

The words were like music to his ears. He had instantaneously headed in the doctor's direction, prepared to follow his lead, before looking back to Hanna. There was a sudden conflict that now faced him, and he had voiced it to her. She dismissed his concern as being ridiculous, insisted that she understood the "family only" stipulations, and that she just wanted Toby to make sure Spencer was doing okay and to report back.

But now he could not help but feel guilty as he ventured down the hallway to Spencer's room. Some part of him still felt that it was wrong to leave Hanna behind.

Her room really wasn't far from where they had been sitting. It had been through an entry way and six doors down the entire time. He could have thrown a stone and reached it. This gave him pause, for he had a bad habit of playing worst case scenarios in his head when it came to Spencer. What if she hadn't been okay? What if the doctors had lost her…and he was only thirty or so paces away, unable to stop it or to help her? The mere thought of it made him shudder.

Toby paused at the observation window to glance in. He wanted to make sure that any remaining anxiety was left at the door, so he could be strong for Spencer. And for that, he would have to steel himself for what he was about to walk into.

The sight was not nearly as heartbreaking as he had expected it to be. Some distant place in his mind had pictured her connected to a plethora of machines, stitches and bandages covering her entire body. But instead, he saw that she was simply laying in her hospital bed, quite alert, her head turned the other way to gaze out the window. It was nearly midday, and the skies were quite clear outside. It was the first time in weeks that clouds were not blanketing them. The bed was propped slightly so that she was in a pseudo-sitting position. He could see now that one leg stuck out from the blankets and was heavily bandaged. There was a small blue cast around her right wrist, and a piece of gauze taped to her temple. For someone who had been expecting the worst, this scene was certainly something of a relief to him.

The sound of him opening her door startled her from her daydream. She turned to look at him and smiled softly in greeting.

"Hey."

"Hey sweetie," he began, approaching her. He felt a faint prickling in the corners of his eyes as he continued to survey her. Maybe God was listening to his prayers after all. "I'm so glad to see that you're awake. I've been so worried…"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she insisted, reaching out for him. He leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead, allowing his face to linger there for a moment. He breathed in the scent of her shampoo – a smell that he loved so dearly. There was a hint of the rusty stench of blood and antiseptic, but it was her smell that he focused on. When he got the phone call, he had had so many fleeting thoughts – fears, really – about not being able to smell her ever again. Never being able to taste the distant hint of coffee and caramel on her lips. Losing the ability to look into her wondrous toffee eyes. Never again would he take the little things he cherished about her for granted.

"I probably look like road kill though," she added laughingly. Toby smiled in response.

"Nonsense. You're more beautiful than ever." He took a seat on the side of her bed, kissing her undamaged hand as he held it to his lips. "You have no idea how good it is to see that you're okay."

Spencer nodded softly, a sad glint in her eyes. "Thanks to Holmes..."

Toby craned his neck to look into her eyes, brushing the backs of his fingers against her jawline. "What do you mean?"

She seemed to be struggling with the urge to cry. "He grabbed me – held onto me – blocked my head from the glass…" She glanced back at Toby suddenly, a brazen look of determination set on her face. "They won't tell me anything about him. I asked if they would walk me down there – just so I could look at him – but they said that they can't let me. I think that's pretty bass-ackwards if you ask me, since I was in the goddamn car with him. Obviously I know him well enough to ask about his condition. But no, they have this stupid family policy, which doesn't make a damn bit of sense, because they let _you _see me – then again, maybe being engaged is looked at the same way as marriage, but – "

"Spencer," Toby interrupted gently as he squeezed her hand.

She obeyed, heaving in and out once, heavily. She had obviously been holding that fear inside for some time.

"We don't have much news on Holmes yet," Toby admitted sadly, brushing his lips across her knuckles. "But his dad is almost here. We should have some information then."

"But he's okay, right?" Spencer asked. "Like – he'll be fine, won't he?"

"From the sounds of it, yeah," Toby agreed. "It's hard to know right now though, until we get more details. They were able to move him out of the ICU a while ago. That counts for something."

Spencer took another deep breath, pulling gingerly on his chin. He interpreted her meaning and leaned down to give her a careful hug.

"I'm so glad you're here," she whispered into his neck. There was a distinct crack in her voice. "The first thing I thought about when I woke up here was that stupid argument we had – well, _I_ had – you mostly just listened – and how I should never have – "

"Baby, you have got to calm down," Toby said sternly, pulling away. He smoothed her hair back behind her ear, so as to get it out of the way of her bandage. "You have enough going on right now that you don't need to get all worked up like this."

"I just feel so useless sitting here," she argued vehemently. "He put his life on the line to protect me…and I haven't even been able to say thank you…" She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't even know if I'll get the chance..."

"You're starting to sound like Hanna," Toby joked half-heartedly, despite the painful hollow in his own heart. "You'll be able to tell him. Don't worry."

She smiled tearfully, brushing her fingers through his short hair. "I'm sorry I'm so neurotic."

"It's one of the many reasons I fell in love with you," he said with a small chuckle.

She giggled a little in spite of herself, bringing her hand away from his face to squeeze his fingers once more. "I love you."

"I love you too." He stood up gently, so as not to jostle her position. "You need your rest. I'll be back to check on you in a bit. I promise."

"Yeah, go check to see if Holmes's dad is here yet," she agreed, settling back into her pillow. "And try to see if you can sneak Hanna in here. I want to see her."

"You got it." He leaned down to give her a brief kiss on the tip of her nose, then her lips. "I'll be back soon."

She smiled softly as her eyelids began to flutter shut once more. As much as he didn't want to leave her side, he could see that she was clearly exhausted. He quietly left the room and returned to the collection of god-awful chairs down the hall. Hanna was anxiously tapping her fingernails on her knees, looking up immediately as he approached.

"How is she?" she asked worriedly.

"She's good. Tired, but good," Toby offered. "She'll be fine."

Hanna breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God."

Toby had barely lowered himself back into a sitting position when the doors flew open. A small-statured, well-dressed black man entered, looking harried.

"Mr. Holmes," Toby greeted immediately, standing again. He had only met Holmes's father once – at AIT graduation – but he had been incredibly kind to him.

"Where's Derek? How is he?" Mr. Holmes asked anxiously, approaching Toby. "What's going on?"

"They won't tell us anything," Toby offered apologetically.

"What? Why the hell not?" Mr. Holmes demanded gruffly.

"They're only letting family see him."

"That's bullshit," Mr. Holmes stated bluntly. "You _are_ his family."

This simple statement warmed Toby's heart considerably.

"Come with me, son. We're going to get to the bottom of this." Mr. Holmes was walking toward the visitors' desk now, but stopped when he noticed Toby's hesitation. "What? What is it?"

Toby looked from Mr. Holmes to Hanna, who appeared close to tears. She would never ask it of him, but Toby knew that she desperately wanted to go with them.

"Oh…hello there, sweetheart," Mr. Holmes said graciously. He furrowed his brow in slight confusion.

"Sorry," Hanna said immediately, standing to shake his hand. "I'm Hanna. I'm friends with – "

"_You're_ Hanna," Mr. Holmes echoed, a realization dawning in his voice. He ignored her hand and instead enveloped her into a signature Holmes family bear hug. She seemed taken off-guard, but hugged back nonetheless. "I've heard so many wonderful things about you. Derek talks about you all the time."

As he pulled away, Toby saw that Hanna was blushing a deep scarlet. He smirked quietly to himself, knowing that she was simply dying to know what sorts of things Holmes had told his father.

"Nice to meet you, sir."

"Don't do that 'sir' thing," he protested light-heartedly. He turned to Toby. "You either. I heard what you called me when I walked in…None of that. It's Jared to you. You know that."

Toby smiled a bit. "Right. Jared."

Jared had scooped an arm around Hanna's shoulders and was leading her in the direction of the desk. "You're both coming in there with me. That's final."

Hanna could have burst into grateful tears at that moment. Toby wanted to jump to her rescue, but could think of no profound way to take the attention away from her. Instead, he offered to lead the way. The closer she got to seeing him, the better.

The nurse at the desk was filing papers when they approached. Jared cleared his throat purposefully to get her attention.

"Hi, sir. Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see my son," Jared declared. "Derek Holmes."

"Sure," the nurse replied, thumbing through her charts. "Let's see…he's in room 1604."

"Great. How is he?" Jared ventured carefully.

The nurse appraised the chart, flipping through a few pages. "He's stable. Concussion. Some blood loss, but a transfusion helped. Broken leg – shattered his femur, I'm afraid…Needed some stitches on his left temple."

"But he's okay?" Hanna breathed in relief. Though the list of injuries was extensive, none were dire.

"He'll be just fine."

Toby put his arm around Hanna's shoulders, squeezing gently. It was the news they had been hoping for all morning.

"Can we see him now?" Jared asked. The nurse looked from him to Hanna and Toby.

"Only family is allowed in."

"They are his family," Jared declared brashly. Toby felt Hanna's body shudder precariously at this. He knew she was still trying her damnedest to hold back tears.

The nurse took a moment to digest this. It was the same nurse that had not let Toby and Hanna in earlier. She was well aware that they had no blood or by-marriage relation to him. However, she nodded decisively, pointing towards the same hallway that Toby had just returned from after visiting Spencer. "You're going to go straight down the hall and then make a right. It's the second door on the left."

"Thank you, darling," Jared said gratefully. Under other circumstances, Toby may have grinned at the low rumble of his southern accent and the way in which he said 'darlin'. Holmes's dialect was nowhere near as strong as his father's, and hearing the richness of his speech was somehow uplifting.

Jared turned to the two of them, gesturing for them to take the lead. Hanna reached out to squeeze Toby's hand purposefully, sharing her worry with him. He squeezed back supportively as they ventured down the hallway together.


	15. Vulnerability

**_A/N: _**_Once more, I feel the need to thank all of you for the lovely reviews. The ones that are especially detailed totally make my day. It's true inspiration for a writer to see specific moments that were moving or appreciated. I love you all!  
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><p><strong><span>CHAPTER 14<span>**

He hated hospitals. He always had, and he always would. Ever since he was eight years old and was admitted for an appendectomy, he had developed a significant albeit irrational phobia. The overwhelming stench of rubbing alcohol and latex gloves was enough to perpetuate his anxiety and give anyone a migraine. And the fact that his head had been pounding since he had awoken was no help in mitigating that.

The pain medication pumping into his IV had succeeded in numbing some of the more extreme pain, like the fracture in his leg, but somehow the pressure had not quite dissipated from his skull. He was vaguely aware that the tension was likely derived from his immense personal discomfort more than any injuries sustained the night before.

"How long will I have to be here?" he asked the day nurse, Sophie, as she began working to replace the bandage on his head. She offered a sympathetic smile in response.

"You've been recovering quite quickly," she offered. "You're lucky that you weren't hurt worse."

"I know," he agreed, somewhat impatiently. "But I want to go home."

"I understand," she began, lowering her eyes from her task on his forehead to meet his gaze. "Do you have any family coming to visit today?"

"No," Holmes stated definitively. "I don't have any family in the area. My dad lives in Georgia, and my mom lives in Cali."

She pursed her lips sympathetically. "Have you called them?"

"Hell no." Holmes had said it before he had really thought it through, and found himself quickly embarrassed. "Sorry. I mean…they worry too much. It's really not necessary to tell them about this."

Sophie chuckled a bit in response. Evidently his French had not offended her in the slightest.

"Can you tell me anything about how Spencer Hastings is doing?" he ventured. He had tried to ask Dr. Tate when he had come to check on him an hour or so ago, and had gotten nothing by way of useful information.

"I'm sorry," Sophie began. "Medical records are private except to family."

"Which is why I haven't had any visitors," Holmes grumbled irritably. "I already know my friends are here. And they're not getting any updates. They're probably worried."

Sophie finished up with his bandage, stepping back to admire her handiwork as she considered her formulation of a response. She deposited the old, blood-stained bandage and her gloves in the trash receptacle and began to wash her hands. "I'll see what I can do," she said at last.

"Thank you," he sighed, relieved. He settled back on his pillow, feeling substantially more at ease. "And if you could pull some strings with getting me home today, I wouldn't complain."

Sophie laughed again. "I have to say, Derek, you've been my most stubborn patient today." She reached out to squeeze his shoulder comfortingly. "I'll speak with Dr. Tate and see what his opinion is."

"Thanks."

"You press the buzzer if you need anything, all right? I'll be back in a couple hours to give you your next set of meds." With that, she headed for the door and was gone to finish her rounds. Holmes was alone with his displeasure once more.

He fumbled at his bedside for the wired remote. He had to admit, it was quite a handy invention. At home, locating the remote was a constant battle. Cavanaugh had a bad habit of wandering into various rooms with it – one time leaving it in the fridge for a week – and Hanna always seemed to lose it in the depths of the couch cushions. With it attached to his hospital bed, it was not only impossible to lose, but also impossible to drop. Both benefits were much appreciated, for with his leg slung up as it was, his mobility was rather limited.

Just as he began to channel surf, he heard the door to his room click open.

"That was fast," he chuckled, turning his head to address Sophie. Only, it was not Sophie this time.

"Hey, son. I got here as fast as I could. I'm sorry it took so long."

"Dad?" Holmes demanded breathlessly. Surely the pain medication was kicking in now and he was delirious. He rubbed a hand over his eyes quickly to gauge his sense of reality. But the mirage did not disappear, and guilt began to overwhelm him. "Dad…you didn't have to come all the way up here…I'm fine."

"Don't be an idiot, Derek," Jared said with a wry smile, approaching his bedside. "Where else would I be?"

Holmes was baffled. "I mean – how did you even know? Who called you?"

"Your friend Toby called me first…but the call from the hospital came shortly after."

Holmes was at a loss for words, but was feeling a swell of appreciation for his dad's presence. "Thanks for coming," he said at last. He hoped his dad understood just how grateful he was.

As Jared laid a hand on Holmes's shoulder, his eyes roved his son's injuries. "You look good…I mean, considering."

Holmes rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "This is probably a step-up, actually. At least I look like I have a dangerous edge now. And I'll have loads of new scars to show the ladies."

Jared chuckled deeply, pulling up a chair to Holmes's bedside. "I thought there was only one girl you were trying to impress these days?" He cocked a playful eyebrow at his son, studying his face for additional details.

If Holmes were the blushing type, he would have assuredly given himself away. "Yeah well," he muttered. "I'm not sure that's gonna end up going anywhere, Dad."

"Oh?"

Holmes sighed heavily, finding the task of straightening his blankets to be a sudden priority. "Do we have to talk about this right now?" he asked innocently. "My head is already racing."

"I understand," Jared agreed sympathetically. "But just so you know, she's here to visit you."

Holmes whipped his head towards his father with such fervor that jolts of pain shot through his body. Perhaps sudden movements weren't the best idea. He tried his best to neglect the soreness that he had caused. "You saw Hanna? She's here?"

"She is," Jared confirmed. "I saw her in the lobby with Toby."

"Yeah," Holmes began distantly. "I don't think they're allowed in. Family only rules."

Jared grinned widely, showing practically all of his teeth in the process. "Now, Derek. You know your father doesn't play well by the rules."

"Dad…" Holmes began with cautious impatience, rolling his eyes. His dad had never been one to take unwanted news lying down, and often embarrassed himself and the entire family with speaking his mind a bit too brashly. "What did you do?"

"You act like I robbed a bank," Jared scoffed, amused. "All I did was have a very straight-forward, very _civil_ talk with the nurse out front. Mr. Cavanaugh and Hanna are right outside the door. Waiting to come in, if it's all right with you."

Holmes's heart leapt into his throat. A stinging in the corners of his eyes threatened to overtake him as he thought about the loyalty of his friends waiting to hear about him for most of the morning. Cavanaugh – his regular Old Faithful. He never had to doubt whether or not he had his back.

But his immediate thought was how he had been craving Hanna's company, and the foolish urge to tell her about all of the things that flashed through his head before he lost consciousness in the accident. He wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her. How he had been selfish to put any pressure on her. How he just couldn't bear the thought of not having her in his life, whether it be as friends or as more. His heart ached unmistakably for her presence.

"Do you want me to bring them in?" Jared asked.

"Yeah," Holmes said, perhaps with a little bit too much enthusiasm. His dad was stifling a chuckle at his excitement. Holmes felt suddenly guilty for being so quick to dismiss his father, and worked quickly to remedy his previous statement. "I mean…well…yeah, I want to see them…but we haven't had a chance to even catch up yet."

"Nah," Jared stated bluntly with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's not as though we never talk. Our Sunday conversations keep me pretty up to date. Besides, I'll be in town for little while. Make sure you're back on your feet."

"Really?" Holmes said, his heart swelling with gratitude. The idea of his father being close-by was thrilling. He was beginning to realize how much he had really missed him. He tended to visit briefly for holidays since he had been stationed in Michigan, but hadn't otherwise spent ordinary time with him in almost two years. "Thanks, Dad."

"It's my job." With that, Jared stood up from his chair and made his way to the door. "One at a time, or do you want them both?"

"Both – both, of course," Holmes sputtered. They were two out of the three faces he had yearned to see all morning, and he was not about to take either of them for granted.

"All right, son. I'll be back in a bit, all right?"

"Okay."

The door clicked shut once more, leaving Holmes in temporary solitude. He felt suddenly foolish about how he must look. It was not out of vanity, but out of pride. He had always been the type to keep his injuries at bay independently, and was spiteful that these were ones he could not hide. He had no use of his left leg at the moment, with it slung up towards the ceiling – and the bandage over his temple was obscuring half of the vision in his left eye. He hated for anyone to see him this way, and found himself wishing that he were in better shape for visitors.

So when Hanna and Cavanaugh entered through his hospital room door, he was feeling far too vulnerable for his comfort. Instead of thinking about it too much, he offered a brave smile for both of them.

"Hey, handsome," Toby quipped jokingly, approaching Holmes's bedside. He looked as though he had not slept in days…and Holmes was nearly positive that he probably hadn't. He was assuredly up all morning worried about Spencer. He assessed Holmes's leg sling briefly. "I'm digging the set-up you have here."

"Yeah, super comfortable," Holmes retorted laughingly. "I figure I'll get one installed when I get home, too."

His eyes flickered to Hanna, who was standing uncertainly near the door. Her eyes were puffy, indicating that she had been crying. He had the distinct urge to reach out to her, but focused foremost on the task at hand.

"How's Spencer doing?"

Toby nodded. "She's good. Worried about you."

Holmes sighed dejectedly. "Yeah. Of _course_ she is," he stated, rolling his eyes. "Next time you see her, let her know I'm fine. The only person she needs to worry about his herself."

Toby chuckled darkly. "Two peas in a pod. My two favorite martyrs."

Holmes pulled a face, but understood his point. He wanted _both _of them to concentrate on getting themselves better.

Hanna was slowly approaching his bedside now. He had tried to divert his gaze, so as to make her transition less awkward, but was having a hell of a time looking away. He could smell her mango hand lotion from five feet away, and his pulse raced involuntarily.

Toby seemed to be akin to the dynamic shift. He looked from Hanna to Holmes knowingly, beginning to back up towards the door. "All right…well I promised Spencer I'd let her know how you were doing," he began with amateur nonchalance. Holmes could have given him a swift kick in the pants for the anvil-sized hints he was dropping all over the room.

"All right," Holmes agreed through gritted teeth, pointedly staring at Toby. "Tell her I'm glad she's okay."

"Will do," Toby stated, practically tearing out of the room and into the hallway before Holmes could reply again.

Well, this was it. He and Hanna were alone now.

She was cautiously approaching his bedside, as if testing the waters by wading into the shallow end of the pool first. She carefully studied his injuries as she took a hesitant seat in the chair. "How are you feeling?" she asked quietly.

"Better, now." He didn't necessarily mean to say it, but she could interpret it as she liked. He opened his hand purposefully to her. She accepted it, intertwining her fingers through his.

"I was really worried," she began slowly. She was not meeting his eyes. "When Toby told me…there were just so many things in my head, all at once."

He squeezed affectionately. "Like what?"

She took a deep breath, evidently garnishing the entirety of her focus. "Like bailing Toby out of jail together. Trying to break into Cody's restaurant. The way you always make fun of my cooking." Both chuckled softly at this.

"You do make some pretty rancid macaroni and cheese," he quipped.

She glared at him. It was the first time she looked him in the eyes since she had entered the room. "Shut up."

"I've told you a million times – you can't over-boil your noodles," Holmes continued lightheartedly. She rolled her eyes and shook her head dismissively.

"Anyway," she proceeded, reigning in her amusement. "I thought about all of the things we've been through together. All of the things I've been too afraid to think about until now."

He brushed the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb, patiently waiting for her to continue.

"It's not one-sided, you know. It never has been." She took a deep, shuddering breath, laughing quietly as she did so. "I mean, for god's sake, Spencer made me write out a pros and cons list about starting a relationship with you."

He couldn't lie – his curiosity was piqued. "What did it say?"

She blushed in reply. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Well. He tried.

"But…the thought of you…of you being _here_," she said darkly, gesturing to the hospital room. "It scared me to death."

He wasn't quite sure where she was going with this. But he did not want to interrupt her thought process by asking questions.

"I guess…it's that whole thing about you never know what you have until it's gone. But I got lucky – you're not gone. You're still here." A single tear was trickling down her delicate cheekbone. Before he even thought about it, he was reaching out to brush it away. He allowed his hand to linger on the side of her face for a moment, combing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"And…and…" she stammered, attempting to hold her tears in. "I don't know what I would do if you were out of my life. I need you. More than I've ever needed anyone, ever."

His heart broke to see her in such pain. He gently pulled her head towards him, cradling her into his chest. "It's okay," he comforted softly, running his hands through her hair. "I'm not going anywhere."

She sniffled into his hospital gown, snaking one arm across his shoulder to hold on more tightly. He breathed in her scent, allowing the peaceful moment to marinade.

"I have a really hard time saying this," she murmured into him, rolling her face slightly so that she could look at him. He craned his neck back slightly to meet her gaze.

"Saying what?"

She smiled slightly then, reaching out to trace her fingertips across the undamaged part of his brow. She seemed to be gearing up for something earth-shattering. Fantastic. This is where it all ended. _Let's just be friends_. _The idea of losing you made me realize that your friendship is so important to me. _ Blah blah blah. Not that a point like that was irrelevant for the moment, but Holmes wasn't ready to give up just yet.

But then, the words she uttered were quite different than the scenario playing shamelessly in his head. "I love you."

Well, that was unexpected. It took him several times of replaying the phrase silently to be sure that he had heard it correctly. The last thing he needed was to reply inappropriately, and piss her off all over again.

"You don't have to say that because of where we are," he murmured. "What happened was scary…but I don't want you to jump into saying it because it feels right to do, right this second."

She shook her head impatiently. "No. It's not just right now. It's been sitting on the tip of my tongue for days. There was just too much holding me back…" She brushed her thumb over his bottom lip, and he felt an involuntary shiver go through his veins.

"I love you," he replied, even though he had said it before. "I tried fighting it, too. It doesn't go away."

She laughed a little, a few more silent tears escaping from beneath her eyelids. He cleared them for her once more. "As much as I hate it when you cry, you look so beautiful when you're vulnerable like this."

He wasn't quite sure what he said to elicit the reaction he gained, but her lips were on his in an instant. What was at first fierce quickly transitioned to slow and gentle, for he was sure she was remembering his condition. She wanted to be careful. He tangled his fingers into her hair, distantly aware of the moisture on his cheeks from her tears. When he pulled away after only a moment, she was smiling. It was their third kiss, but it might as well have been their first. This one did not end with awkward feelings or uncertainty. It was an ordinary kiss between two people who loved each other. A normal kiss that a couple would share.

Hanna's head returned to its rightful spot on his shoulder, and she began tracing indiscriminate shapes with her fingertips on his neck. He wasn't sure how long they stayed like this before he drifted back to sleep, but the dreams that followed were the most peaceful he had had in weeks.


	16. Unpleasant Homecomings

**A/N:**_We're jumping ahead with time a bit now. Submitting 2 chapters back to back. Enjoy!_**  
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><p><strong>CHAPTER 15<strong>

It was nearly a week later before both Holmes and Spencer were discharged. Holmes had all but leapt from his bed at the announcement of leaving, temporarily forgetting the immobility of his leg. Intense discomfort had ensued at this motion of enthusiasm, and extra pain medication had been necessary for the trip home.

Spencer had been discharged first, a couple of days before Holmes, which made him invariably grumpy. Since she had gotten home, however, she had made it a priority to help Hanna prepare for Holmes's temporary incapacitation. Though the break in his leg was not severe – merely a minor fracture – he would need to use crutches for a while until the pain dissipated and the break healed enough to walk on. Needless to say, he wasn't fond of this idea at all. He had tried to prove to the others that he could move on his own, only to topple over helplessly to the ground. Toby subsequently heard curse words that he didn't know Holmes even had in his vocabulary.

"All right, wait for me to help you out," Jared declared as he pulled into the driveway of their house. Holmes was looking fondly out the window – like a kid peeking into a candy store – as he waited for his dad and Toby to assist him out of the rental car. Toby knew that coming home was exciting for him. He had said over and over again how much he hated hospitals, and the crankiness that came with it made this sentiment quite clear.

Holmes was hobbling up the porch, Toby and Jared on either arm assisting him, when he asked the question that everybody had been hoping he wouldn't.

"Hey…so…what happened to my car?"

Toby and Jared winced at one another over Holmes's head. They had visited the crash site the day after the accident to assess the damage. Ultimately, the wreckage had to be trashed. There was no possibility of salvaging what was left.

"Um," Toby began uncertainly as he used one hand to open the front door, "it's uh…seen better days."

Holmes turned to him, an incredulous look on his face. Jared filled in the blanks bluntly.

"Son, the car is scrap metal."

"You're joking," Holmes breathed miserably. "I spent my entire enlistment bonus on that thing!"

"Cars can be replaced. People can't," his dad stated simply. "The most important thing is that _you're_ okay."

"But I _need_ a car!" Holmes whined. Toby had been mystified – and amused – at the regression of Holmes's maturity since his dad had arrived. There were moments that he acted like a little kid all over again. Toby supposed he, himself, might act the same way if he felt closer to his father. Unfortunately, they had never bonded enough to breed any sort of dependence.

"I'll help you finance a new one, boy," Holmes's dad said impatiently. "Now get in the house."

Holmes grumbled all the way up the threshold. Hanna and Spencer were waiting patiently inside, in front of a small banner strung up over the bar counter that said _welcome home!_ in big, bright letters. The house had been cleaned up and furniture moved around to make it easier for Holmes to navigate on his crutches. The girls (mainly Spencer, most likely) had cooked Holmes his favorite meal of steak and mashed potatoes as a coming home gesture. If all of that didn't cheer him up, Toby wasn't sure what would.

"Welcome home!" Hanna chirped, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek. Toby swore that even through Holmes's dark skin, he was blushing.

"You guys didn't have to do all of this," Holmes reasoned modestly, looking around the room with bated breath.

"You haven't even seen all of it yet," Spencer declared happily. Toby was thrilled to see her on her feet so fast and back to normal. The image of her in the hospital bed was quickly dissipating with her fast recovery.

"Yeah, come to the den!" Hanna agreed. Holmes was transitioning onto his crutches now, with help from his father. He had not had much practice with them yet, and was still working them quite clumsily.

They followed Spencer and Hanna down the hallway to the den, where they found the couch had been set up with pillows and blankets. It was certainly practical, for Holmes would not be able to easily travel up and down the stairs for a while. The girls had also moved the television from his bedroom into the den, so as to make him feel more at home sleeping in a room that was not his own.

"This is great, you guys," Holmes murmured. "Thanks."

Toby glanced at him. Holmes was never fond of being the center of attention, and his attitude now made that very clear. He was unsure of how to respond, and was looking undoubtedly embarrassed about all of the fuss that his friends had made in assisting with his recovery.

"All right," Toby interrupted purposefully, attempting to save him from his discomfort. "How about that dinner? It smells delicious." Holmes shot him a look of gratitude in response.

The five of them settled down at the dining room table to eat. What should have been a pleasant meal was quickly becoming unbearable. Holmes was inexplicably snapping at people and grumbling under his breath at various irritations. He was growing more and more annoyed at everybody's incessant need to help him. Hanna was cutting up his steak into small pieces and Spencer was prancing into the kitchen to refill his glass of milk when he had a miniature meltdown.

"I have perfectly good use of my hands, Hanna," he snapped. "And Spencer, if you feed me any more milk, I'm going to get lactose poisoning. Everybody needs to stop worrying. _I'm fine_. I can do these things myself."

A brief, uncomfortable silence followed. Toby dropped his fork with a noisy clatter that seemed to echo throughout the tension-filled room.

"Don't be rude, Derek," Jared replied peevishly. "Your friends are trying to help you."

"I got that," Holmes stated irritably. "But I'm not _helpless_." With that, he pushed himself back from the table and was attempting to use his crutches to stand. Everybody else was practically holding their breath as they watched him struggle, continuously collapsing back into his chair. His face was set with determination and frustration as he refused to give up.

"Son…" Jared began slowly, standing and steadying the crutches for Holmes. Toby expected him to dismiss him, but he accepted the help begrudgingly. The moment he had found his stability, he was using the crutches to hobble down the hallway to the den, kicking the door shut behind him.

They sat for a moment, silent. Hanna had begun to tear up, and was suddenly busying herself with ripping pieces of her napkin into small shreds.

Toby pushed his chair back. "I'll go talk to him."

The others nodded somberly, and Toby found himself selfishly grateful to leave the table, himself. The atmosphere was far too depressing for him right now. Having everybody home and safe and healthy was supposed to be a joyous occasion.

He stomped into the den, slamming the door shut. Holmes had managed to steer himself to the couch, and was buried piteously under the blanket. Toby irritably tore it off of his head.

"What the hell is your problem?" he demanded.

"Go away," Holmes muttered, pulling the pillow over his face.

"No." Toby sat down on the armchair beside the couch, seething. "I know you don't like being taken care of. I know it makes you insane. You're used to taking care of everybody else. And that's fine. Your pride is something that you can't control. But for god's sake, man…lighten up on everyone else. They're trying to help. And you're being a dickhead."

Holmes's retort was muffled beneath his pillow. Toby reached over to tear it away from his face, too.

"I get it, okay?" Holmes declared impatiently, not meeting his eyes. "I just can't deal with it right now."

"And the way you treated Hanna…" Toby continued, ignoring Holmes's previous statement.

"I know," Holmes insisted. "I know what you're going to say. I just got her to give me a chance, and now I'm sabotaging it. I know."

"Actually, I was just going to say that you hurt her feelings," Toby stated succinctly. "But now that you mention it – that's a damn good point."

Holmes sighed heavily, reaching out for his pillow. Toby returned it to him with a warning glare that forbade him from using it as a shield anymore. Holmes propped it under his neck.

"I just need to rest, man," he said at last. He sounded emotionally exhausted. "I couldn't sleep in that god-forsaken hospital..."

"Fine," Toby agreed half-heartedly, standing and heading for the door. "But if you know what's good for you, you should probably apologize to Hanna."

"Yeah," Holmes replied distantly. "Can you tell her I want to see her?"

"Sure." Toby's hand began to turn the knob.

"Hey…dude…"

Toby turned to him expectantly. Holmes was re-adjusting his blanket, concentrating on the task at hand.

"I know you guys mean well," he said quietly. "I'm sorry I was a douche."

"We all have our moments," Toby reasoned with a small smile. "Don't sweat it. I'll kick your ass when you can walk properly."

"Fuck off," Holmes chuckled.

They shared a brief moment of mutually exhausted laughter.

"I'll go get Hanna," Toby stated as he shut the door behind him. He wandered back into the kitchen to see that Spencer had cleaned up the plates from dinner. Hanna was sitting on the couch, flipping through channels on the television. Jared was pulling on his coat, and as Toby entered the room, he addressed him.

"I need to take off. Is Derek calmed down?"

"Yeah," Toby replied. Hanna looked up briefly at his response.

"Good," Jared muttered. "Then I can go say 'bye' to him without getting my head ripped off."

Toby chuckled a little, taking a seat beside Hanna as Jared trekked down the hallway. He could feel her eyes burning into the side of his head.

"Is he okay?" she asked meekly.

Toby nodded. "He'll be fine. He wants to talk to you though."

She winced. Toby had the feeling that she wasn't sure she particularly wanted to talk to him right now. He didn't necessarily blame her.

"He's just really tired," Toby reasoned in Holmes's defense. "He's crabby."

Hanna scoffed, rolling her eyes. Well, yeah. The crabby part was probably obvious to everyone at this point.

Jared was returning from the den now, looking considerably more cheered. He said his goodbyes to Toby, Spencer, and Hanna, and was out the door. Hanna hesitantly wandered in the direction he had come from, steeling herself for Holmes's potential hostility. Despite Toby's reassurance, she was evidently still worried.

Spencer finished loading the dishwasher and curled up at Toby's side, resting her head in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arm around her, resting his hand on her opposite hip.

"I don't blame him," she reflected distantly. "The more I get to know him, the more I realize how alike we are."

Toby laughed softly. He had begun to realize this a long time ago.

"I don't like when people wait on me hand and foot, either," she continued. "It's maddening."

"Sometimes you have to accept help without reading too much into it, though," Toby rationalized quietly. "People wouldn't help you unless they wanted to do it."

"Hmm," Spencer murmured into his neck. The sound was so neutral that Toby wasn't sure whether it was a response of agreement or dissent. When she began planting tiny kisses into the curve of his shoulder, however, he found that he suddenly didn't really care which it was.

"What are you doing?" he asked suggestively. He could feel her smile against his skin. She knew exactly what she was doing.

"Nothing," she replied innocently. She tugged away the collar of his shirt gently so as to trail her lips to his collarbone. He felt his heart rate pick up involuntarily.

"Spencer," he breathed with mock warning. In retaliation, she grabbed his free hand and pressed it against her breast, continuing the neck-kissing all the while. He caressed her chest softly, re-angling his head so that he could meet her lips. They hadn't been able to do anything like this since the accident. And even though Toby was a patient man, his uncontrollable arousal told him how much he had missed the feeling of her skin against his. Her tongue roved his mouth as she pressed his hand against her more firmly.

Her other hand was immediately at his waistline, fumbling with the button of his jeans. She was pulling them down to his ankles before he had even realized what she was doing. He pulled back, suddenly aware of the fact that he was very publically in his boxers with a very obvious erection.

"What, here?" he demanded worriedly. The look of mischievousness on Spencer's face answered his question as she swung one leg around his hip, straddling him. She immediately began grinding against him, which all but sent him into a frenzy.

"Spencer…Hanna and Holmes…"

"The possibility of getting caught makes it exciting," she whispered as she nibbled his ear. Her desire was so powerful that he could have lost it, here and now.

"Not for me," he laughed, pushing her gently away from his neck. If she kept at it, he wouldn't be able to turn back. "I don't want anybody to see us like this."

She looked slightly hurt at this, but he had stood up with her legs around his hips before she could begin to protest. He was quickly maneuvering the two of them up the stairs, which proved to be even more difficult with his pants around his ankles. At some point between the landing and the second floor, he kicked them off anyway. Who cares? he figured. Finding his pants was better than finding the two of them going at it on the couch. And that had damn near almost happened.

He tossed her onto his bed, climbing immediately on top of her. She giggled involuntarily as he began to plant butterfly kisses below her ear lobe. She always said that she loved when he did it, but she couldn't help but find it insanely ticklish.

"We should have done it downstairs," she breathed, still stuck on her previous idea. Toby would have to think quickly to make it up to her. He was pulling off her shirt, using his lips to explore the newly-exposed skin. Spencer shuddered into him, her hands buried in his hair.

"See? It's just as fun up here," Toby replied as he began to shimmy her leggings down to her ankles. She gladly used her feet to push them off of each ankle.

"Fine," she agreed half-heartedly. "Now take your clothes off."

Toby chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."


	17. The Countdown Begins

**A/N: **_Two chapters back to back - make sure you got chapter 15 too. Enjoy!_

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><p><strong><span>CHAPTER 16<span>**

The month of January had expired as fast as it had arrived with New Year's Eve. Holmes was recovering quickly with help from physical therapy and constant doctor's appointments, which meant that he needed less and less help around the house, much to his excitement. His dad had put a down payment on a brand new Ford Explorer for him with the understanding that he would make his own monthly payments. And fortunately, Holmes's mood had improved considerably – with the exception of when his dad flew back to Georgia. Nobody in the house had even wanted to interact with him for a short time after that, for fear of having their throats torn out. Within a couple of days, however, he had adjusted to the change and was back to himself.

He and Hanna were still adjusting to their new relationship, which often threw Toby and Spencer off guard. None of them were quite used to it yet, and there were still days where watching Holmes and Hanna kiss was likened to an inexplicable acid trip.

With the dawning of February, Spencer's neuroticism became more unbridled. The wedding was fast approaching, and before any of them knew it, it was a matter of mere days away. Her anxiety had been through the roof with the final wedding arrangements, and her classes were not helping matters. Toby had attempted to calm her down one day with the suggestive idea of taking a bath together. After all, the last time they had been intimate was the day she got home from the hospital. In response, she had practically screamed at him about how they weren't allowed to have sex until their wedding night, leaving him feeling nothing short of terrified…and sexually frustrated.

The Monday before the wedding she had taken one look at Holmes and burst into tears. When asked what was wrong, she stammered about something to do with coordinating his crutches into the ceremony. Then she had begun to bawl even harder as she apologized for being so selfish. In desperate hopes to appease her, Holmes had tossed his crutches onto the floor.

"I can handle it," he had said. "See?"

But then, of course, when he stumbled to the ground, Spencer only hiccupped in despair.

She had cheered up substantially when Aria and Emily arrived in town on Thursday morning. The two of them and Hanna had spent much of the day trying to reassure Spencer, and remind her of the festivities happening with her bachelorette party that night.

"You're right. You're right!" Spencer declared finally on Thursday evening as she slammed her laptop shut. The girls had come out to stage an intervention and force her to get ready for her party. They were already dressed and ready to go, and Spencer – the bride herself – was holding back the entire night. After all, dinner time had come and gone and the boys had left a few hours prior to meet Lancaster, Jason, and Ezra.

"I know I'm right!" Hanna agreed as she and Aria bodily lifted Spencer from her chair and began pushing her towards the bathroom. "You need to get dressed and let us doll you up."

"I don't need to be dolled up," Spencer protested.

"Yeah, you do," Emily cried. "It's your bachelorette party!"

"Yeah, you don't have a bachelorette party in your sweats, Spence," Aria said.

Spencer sighed and allowed the girls to proceed. Within a half an hour, her hair and makeup were finished, and she was practically being pulled out the door. It wasn't as though she hadn't looked forward to tonight – that wasn't it at all. She was simply concerned that there was so much to double and triple check before Saturday and that there ultimately wouldn't be enough time.

Aria seemed to read her mind in the limo, sending a swift kick into her shin. "Lighten up, Spencer. Tonight's about you."

"Yeah," Hanna chirped, handing Spencer a glass of the champagne she had found in the limo's fridge. Spencer accepted it begrudgingly.

"You know we have to pay for that. Right, Han?"

"I'm the maid of honor," Hanna retaliated with a dismissive wave of her hand. Spencer sighed.

"You've been saying that all week," she stated. "You've been using it as an excuse for everything. And to be honest, I'm not really sure how it works."

Hanna rolled her eyes in Spencer's direction. "_I'm the maid of honor_," she repeated firmly, as though it sufficed for explanation.

"That better translate to 'I'll take care of it'," Spencer chuckled. "Because God knows I need you as a safety net right now."

"Drink," Emily commanded, pushing Spencer's glass of champagne closer to her face. Spencer allowed herself to smile at last, bringing the flute to her face and taking a sip.

"Mmm!" she mumbled through a mouthful of champagne. "God, that's good stuff…"

"I told you," Hanna said, flipping her blond hair behind her shoulder.

"What do you suppose the guys are doing?" Aria asked curiously as she sipped her own. Hanna shrugged dramatically.

"Probably losing all of their money at the casino," she scoffed. "I'll tell you what, Derek better be damn careful about what he spends, when he has that car to pay off…"

"I'm never going to get used to that," Spencer quipped. "You calling him Derek."

"What is she supposed to do?" Aria demanded. "You can't very well scream out 'Holmes!' during sex, right?"

The blatant statement had caused Hanna to cough into her glass of champagne. She pulled it away and wiped her chin, a scandalized look on her face. "Aria Montgomery!"

"What?" Aria asked innocently. Emily and Spencer were both staring at her as well. Her comment had been more along the lines of something Hanna would say than Aria. "I'm just being realistic!"

"So – I mean – _have_ you?..." Emily began shyly.

"No!" Hanna cried indignantly. She collected herself quickly and cleared her throat. "I mean…no…we haven't. Not yet. We're still kind of getting over the whole hump of going from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend…"

"Hanna," Spencer declared with mock surprise. "You said the word 'hump' and didn't laugh!"

"Oh, my God, I did," Hanna breathed. "His maturity is rubbing off on me, isn't it?" She took a long sip of champagne, downing her glass in one.

"Yeah, knock it off!" Aria laughed. "We need wild Hanna tonight."

"Oh, she'll be there," Hanna agreed. "I've never been to a bachelorette party, and I am not about to be a buzz kill for my first one."

By the time the girls arrived at the club, the bottle of champagne was already working its way through their systems. Before they stepped out of the limo, Hanna suddenly remembered something.

"I almost forgot!" she cried, pulling out a plastic bag that had been shoved in the back with her purse. From within it, she unearthed a white sash that read 'bachelorette' in cursive pink writing as well as a tiara with fuzzy pink adornments.

"No," Spencer declared. "I'm not wearing those."

"How is anyone supposed to know that you're the center of attention tonight if you don't?" Emily demanded.

This reasoning was quite solid for Spencer. She _did_ want everyone she met tonight to know that she was about to tie the knot with the most wonderful man in the world…

"All right," she sighed. "Why the hell not?"

"I _told_ you it was a good idea to wait until she drank a little before you gave it to her," Aria muttered to Hanna.

Part of Spencer wanted to be annoyed at this manipulation. The other part of her felt entirely too high to care. She pulled the sash over her shoulder and placed the tiara into her curls. "Good?"

"Perfect!" Hanna declared. "All right. Let's get inside before you change your mind."

The inside of the club was chaotic, that was for sure. What with the booming bass and the incessant strobe lights, Spencer's buzz increased twofold by just walking through the door. The girls were already pulling her towards the bar eagerly, shoving her onto a stool.

"Get this girl a shot!" Hanna commanded. "It's her bachelorette party!"

The crowd around them _whooped_ enthusiastically, and before Spencer knew it, a number of total strangers were shoving various shots of alcohol in her direction. She was downing them faster than she would have ever thought possible, and was feeling considerably more relaxed. When Aria at last pulled her to her feet, Spencer stumbled giggly to the dance floor.

"I love this song!" Hanna declared loudly as a dance remix of the Black-Eyed Peas came over the sound system. She held fast to Spencer's hands as she danced with her, which Spencer was silently grateful for. If she wasn't holding on, she wasn't sure she would be able to maintain any semblance of balance. She needed to metabolize some of the liquor from her veins – that was for sure. The lights were blaring more brightly and the music was thumping in her muscles. And she had to admit, the feeling of it was intoxicating.

"Hey baby."

Spencer turned. A group of men in probably their mid-twenties had approached the girls, and one of them was looking intently at Emily. "Let me buy you a drink," he said.

"I'm sorry," Emily stated bluntly. "I'm gay."

"Sure," the guy dismissed. "They all say that. C'mon, just one drink."

"She _is_ gay!" Hanna shouted over the music. "In fact…she's _my_ girlfriend."

Emily shot Hanna a look of panic. Hanna, however, was expertly carrying on the façade. "So if you don't mind, we'd like to be left alone."

"If you're lesbians," one of the guy's wingmen began, "prove it."

Before Spencer even knew what was happening, Hanna had grabbed Emily's face in her hands and was planting a kiss on her lips. She and Aria stopped dead in their tracks as they watched. It was like a car crash – as morbid as it felt, they simply could not look away.

When Hanna pulled back, she looked as confident as ever. Emily, on the other hand, was blushing scarlet from head to toe.

"Proof enough?" Hanna asked roughly. The guys were already walking away to find another group of girls to meet. "Yeah, that's what I thought!" she yelled after them, though they were long gone.

"Hanna!" Emily declared brashly. "What did you do that for?"

"Sorry," Hanna chirped. "Just trying to make them go away. We don't need any boys bothering us tonight."

Spencer doubled over in laughter. Try as she might to hold it in, the alcohol content in her blood stream could not negotiate any amount of seriousness about what had just happened. "Hanna – you kissed Emily!" she guffawed.

"I know," Hanna said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "I was there."

Spencer's laughter was somehow contagious though. The other three girls were soon in identical tears of mirth, clutching to one another for balance and gasping for breath.

"Thanks for making me come out tonight, guys," Spencer said at last, wiping the moisture from her eyes. "I'm having a blast."

"You can't get married without having a bachelorette party," Aria agreed. "It's like, a rite of passage."

"Oh, my God," Hanna cried, grabbing onto Spencer's wrist. "You're getting married in 42 hours!"

Spencer looked at her watch for clarification. It was ten o'clock – her wedding ceremony started at four o'clock on Saturday.

"I'm getting married in 42 hours!" she declared. Excitement was bubbling up in her chest now as she pictured Toby standing at the end of the aisle in his tux, his baby blue eyes shining across the hall at her. She imagined him reciting his vows to her as he clung to her hands, feeling self-conscious about everybody staring up at them. Toby had never been the type to be the center of attention. Spencer, on the other hand, thrived off of it. He would need her to stabilize him and calm his anxiety. And she couldn't think of any other way she would want to spend her wedding day – comforting the man she loved.

"Let's get another shot to celebrate!" Aria hollered over the music. She had grabbed onto Spencer's hand and was leading her through the crowd and back to the bar. Spencer's mind was still on Toby, and she wondered if he was having as much fun as she was. She hoped so. He deserved to enjoy himself tonight, too.

And suddenly – as a bride-to-be so typically does – she couldn't wait until the end of the night when she could be wrapped in his arms once more.


	18. Bachelor Party Drama

**_A/N:_** _Sorry for the wait, guys. I was pretty busy finishing up classes and GRADUATING this weekend. Yeah. No big deal. Except it totally is. MSW Degree, you are officially my bitch. _

_Some of you have been asking about what my plans are after this story. I'm hoping to continue on and turn it into a trilogy, but we shall see. I'd like your input on what you would like Part III to entail. Send me your ideas and suggestions!  
><em>

_Enjoy!_

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 17<strong>

"Another hundo down," Holmes announced somberly as he approached Toby with a fresh Budweiser, handing it off to him.

"Are you joking?" Toby demanded, incredulity dripping from his voice like syrup. "Aria is going to _kill_ me. And you know what that means, don't you?"

"You'll have Spencer to answer to," Holmes quipped with immaculate accuracy, tipping back his bottle. He and Toby stood side-by-side, mutually gazing in Ezra's direction. He had been downing one rum and coke after another, and subsequently had been at the poker table for far longer than any ex-gambling addict would recommend. Nothing the boys had done so far had been able to convince him otherwise.

"He has a great hand this time, though," Jason announced, hopping down the stairs from the poker platform to join Holmes and Toby. "I peeked over his shoulder. Pocket aces. He's all in."

"What?" Toby demanded. "_All in?_ How much is _all in_?"

"A grand," Jason said, jerking his chin towards the table. "Your friend Lancaster helped him buy back in."

"I'm going to kill him," Toby growled. "Where did he go?"

"Black jack," Jason replied, sipping on his beer. "Said he had a good feeling about it."

Holmes rolled his eyes melodramatically, elbowing Toby gently in the rib cage. "We never should have brought him." He knew that he meant Lancaster. "You remember that time in Toronto, don't you?"

"How could I forget?" Toby stated sarcastically. "We tried calling him all night…just to find him naked in the middle of the street as the sun was coming up."

Jason was looking at the two, perplexed. Holmes filled in the gaps for him briefly.

"He bet every dime he had in a game…and on the last hand, which he was positive was a sure thing, bet his clothes _and_ his iPhone."

Jason chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "The things some people will do for the thrill of the gamble…"

"Seriously. Even betting away all the money you saved up to buy a house with your girlfriend," Toby muttered irritably, gesturing to Ezra.

"He looks terrified," Jason said earnestly. It was true. There were drops of perspiration appearing quickly on Ezra's forehead, and his hands appeared to be shuddering without resolve. His eyes were shifting back and forth between the chips in the center of the table and the dealer, looking entirely too paranoid for his own good.

The dealer completed the river. A brief smirk flitted across Ezra's face for but a moment, before returning to the nervous fear of before.

"He might have it," Holmes mumbled. The three watched in fascination, mentally crossing their fingers. They knew that if they ever allowed Ezra to leave the casino naked, as had happened to Lancaster a year ago, the girls would never forgive them. Toby thought momentarily of Spencer calling off the entire wedding, lecturing him about irresponsibility and not preventing a friend from making a mistake. _How can I trust you to be a good father – to watch our kids – when you can't even keep a decent eye on Ezra_? Yeah. She would most certainly turn this into a prediction of future parenthood. It was the way she operated. She would blame Jason, as well, for her expectations for his behavior were far higher now that they had begun to develop a brother-sister relationship of sorts.

And Holmes? He would just be plain old screwed. Hanna would probably never speak to him again.

Toby knew how extreme the repercussions sounded in his head, but he also was beginning to understand the unfaltering loyalty that females provided one another. It was like that time in middle school when Alison DiLaurentis slipped pornographic magazines into Noel Kahn's locker on inspection day, simply because he had made fun of Aria's pink hair. He had gotten two weeks of detention for violating the school's code of conduct. Girls would sink to deep, devilish levels to protect their kind. And it was quite frankly the most terrifying form of camaraderie in the known universe.

And suddenly, Ezra was on his feet, hooting and hollering. He was pulling the pile of poker chips in towards his chest, oblivious to the men around him tossing their cards furiously onto the table. Toby and the others were behind him in a flash.

"I won!" Ezra cried enthusiastically, turning to his companions. "I just won four grand!"

"Are you serious?" Holmes demanded, reaching out to shuffle some of the winning chips between his fingers, as if they were made of gold.

"I fucking won!" Ezra declared, shocking Toby momentarily with his uncharacteristic curse.

"All right, Richie Rich," Toby began cautiously, assisting Ezra in collecting his handfuls of tokens. "Let's go cash this in and head home, all right?"

"Are you joking?" Ezra demanded hysterically. Toby could not help but be slightly amused at the sight of his old English teacher drunk beyond recognition, hovering over the poker table like a vulture. Somehow the professional portrayal of sophistication and dignity had dissipated throughout the night. "I'm on a roll!"

"Don't even think about it," Jason agreed, swiping the sack of tokens from Ezra's grip. "You just won a shit ton of money, which is pretty much unheard of in casinos. They're all rigged, you know. The odds of winning are lower than people think. That's why they crank the heat up to add to the adrenaline rush, and sell alcoholic beverages for a dollar. It's all very calculated." Jason turned his eyes to the dealer, who was shooting daggers in his direction. "I mean…no offense."

"What he means to say is, you're done," Holmes reasoned. Jason and Toby each took hold of one of Ezra's arms, leading him in the general direction of the cashier. In his drunken daze, he wasn't quite able to resist. He merely muttered incoherently under his breath.

"…Can't take a man away when he's on a heater…that's like waking a sleepwalker…can't do it…can't…"

"Would you listen to him?" Holmes chuckled, following close behind on one crutch. He had been able to retire the other one a few days prior. "Something gives me the impression this isn't his first time losing his shit at the casino."

Toby rolled his eyes good-naturedly, marveling at the continued amusement he was experiencing. There was something quite ironic about the fact that he was escorting an immensely inebriated version of an ex-teacher out of a casino, lecturing him about the dangers of gambling.

"…Need all the money I can get. So important. Sooooo…soooo important," Ezra continued to mumble, his head lolling off to one shoulder. "Have to buy the princess cut ring with the diamond chips…her favorite…can't propose with just _anything_…"

Jason unexpectedly let go, causing an unbalanced Ezra to stumble all of his weight into Toby. The young soldier only barely caught him.

"You're proposing?" Jason demanded. Toby was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the fact that Jason and Aria had not broken up very long ago. Though her break with Ezra only lasted a short while, Jason had undoubtedly fallen head over heels for her in that time frame. And had not had those feelings reciprocated.

Ezra was giggling uncontrollably. Evidently, standing up and moving had caused the buzz to kick in tenfold.

"Jason, it's not the time," Toby growled, slinging one arm around Ezra's middle and using the other to hold fast to his elbow. He was having difficulty keeping him upright on his own.

Jason squared his jaw in disapproval, but nonetheless reached out to dejectedly resume his position of assisting Toby. Lancaster was approaching, as well, looking particularly pleased with the wad of twenties in his palm.

"I told you I had a good feeling about the black jack table," he told Jason mockingly. He glanced to Ezra. "Oh. Whoa. Looks like the captain had a little too much Captain."

"Drink responsibly – Captain's orders!" Ezra quoted, repeating the slogan from the commercial, and offering a half-hearted salute. He then began to guffaw hysterically.

"We need to get him back," Holmes muttered darkly. "Preferably sober."

"We'll stop for coffee," Jason quipped sincerely, apparently attempting to atone for his earlier frustration. "Then we'll get him back to his and Aria's hotel."

"Sounds like a plan," Toby agreed. "C'mon, Lancaster…help us out."

"What do you want me to do?" Lancaster demanded sarcastically, gesturing to the two boys on either arm. "Grab his feet?"

"Just get the door," Toby insisted sourly.

The limo ride from the casino to Denny's was a bit of an adventure. And not the sort that you go to Disney World for – it was the kind that you embark on when your wife gives birth to triplets. Complete, utter frustration and an inability to control a person's bodily functions. Ezra had stuck his head through the moon roof, hollering wildly at the city streets. After a while, the boys had given up trying to coax him back in. If he got smacked with a low-grown tree branch, it would be his own damn fault.

By the time they got the restaurant, he was considerably more sober. At least, in the strictest sense of the word. He had stopped shouting obscenities at strangers, at least. Now, he was just reduced to a stumbling, confused mess.

"Sit down," Toby declared brashly, practically throwing Ezra into the booth. "We're going to get you some coffee."

When the waitress came by, all five of them requested the very same beverage, beginning to feel the night catching up with them. Lancaster was rubbing his temples and muttering to himself, attempting to pre-emptively chant away a hangover. The waitress brought the coffee to the table, and the delightful smell traveled immediately into Toby's nose.

"You need to drink this," he stated as he set a mug purposefully in front of Ezra. Ezra scowled down at it.

"What's in it?"

"…Coffee beans," Toby replied, bemused. He reached across the table for the sweeteners. "You want sugar?"

"I don't want the Sweet 'N Low shit," Ezra muttered melodramatically, pulling the pink packets out of the container and tossing them uselessly over his shoulder. "I want real sugar."

"Okay, okay!" Holmes said impatiently, staying his hand from throwing anything else. "Real sugar, Cavanaugh. Get the man real sugar."

"This guy's a mess," Lancaster observed as he sipped on his own coffee. He sighed happily as the warmth coursed through his veins. "Where did you say you picked him up from?"

"Just some random high school we found on the way to the casino," Jason said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "We already told you. He taught in Rosewood."

"Oh, same thing," Lancaster said dismissively. Toby remembered how irritable he got when he was coming down from a buzz.

"All right, here's the game plan," Holmes announced. Judging by the brevity in his voice, Toby would have thought they were intending to prepare for some _Oceans Eleven_ type heist. He began to explain the various ways in which they would have to cover their asses from the girls – omitting Ezra's carelessness, primarily. Toby drifted off precariously as he glanced over Holmes's shoulder, his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach.

"Caleb," he muttered.

"Caleb Rivers, B+!" Ezra slurred.

"No – I mean – it's _Caleb_," Toby said pointedly through gritted teeth, gesturing over Holmes's shoulder. Holmes whipped around to face his direction.

"What the hell is he doing here?" he asked moodily.

"Oh, God," Toby declared sheepishly, burying his face in his hands. Holmes eyed him suspiciously.

"What? What is it?"

"We invited him to the wedding, man…before him and Hanna broke up."

Holmes squared his jaw immediately, attempting to maintain his cool. He was blatantly ignoring Ezra next to him, pouring salt into his coffee mug.

"You're kidding."

Before Toby could formulate a reply, Caleb was walking towards them. He sat up straight in preparation for the encounter, silently willing Holmes to keep composed.

"Hey, guys," Caleb greeted amiably, clapping a hand on Toby's shoulder. "Bachelor party?"

"Something like that," Jason agreed with a half-hearted smile, jerking a thumb in Ezra's direction. "Jack Sparrow here can't hold his liquor, so we had to duck out early."

"Not exactly the night we had planned," Toby laughed. He was purposely avoiding Holmes's eyes, but saw from his peripherals that he was squeezing his coffee mug far more tightly than necessary.

"Sorry to hear it," Caleb chuckled. He squinted his brow ever-so-slightly and lowered his voice to Toby. "So…hey…how's Hanna doing?"

"She's good," Toby replied, attempting to repress his panic. Holmes had been drinking tonight, and was more prone to being outspoken when he had liquor in his veins. He was praying that he would keep quiet.

"Good," Caleb breathed. "I mean…I've been thinking about her a lot, man."

"Uh huh," Toby replied uncertainly. He jutted out a foot towards Holmes's good shin beneath the table, pushing on it to signal a warning.

"Does she have a date? Do you know?"

Holmes cleared his throat distinctively. Toby reeled back his foot to plant a swift kick in the same shin. Pain registered on Holmes's face, but he said nothing.

Caleb was looking from Toby to Holmes, and Toby could see that he was rapidly putting the pieces of the puzzle together in his brain.

"Oh. I see," he mumbled. He didn't look pleased. Toby couldn't necessarily blame him…he _had_ been annoyed at Hanna living with Holmes, and, despite her insistence that they were 'just friends,' hadn't been able to help his jealously.

"Hey…Caleb…c'mon," Toby began to plead. Caleb shook his head sharply.

"No. It's fine," he muttered. "I get it. She's dating the guy that she always told me wasn't a threat. It's crystal clear."

Holmes had gone from looking angry to incredibly guilty. He winced apologetically in Caleb's direction. "Dude…look…"

"I understand," Caleb continued, his voice devoid of any emotion. "She's easy to fall in love with."

Holmes said nothing in response.

"Listen, I'll see you guys on Saturday," Caleb decided at last. As he began to walk away, Ezra called out to him.

"Mr. Rivers! I'll need your essay on my desk by 10 A.M.!"

Caleb paused for a moment before glancing at Toby for answers. "Is…is that Mr. Fitz?"

"Yeah," Toby sighed heavily. "Ignore him."

"Already done," Caleb confirmed. He proceeded to retreat from the vicinity, and Toby watched as he left through the front door.

"Great," he muttered, shooting Holmes another look of annoyance. "You just couldn't resist, could you?"

"What? Me?" Holmes cried indignantly. "He was the one who came up here, talking all about how he wants Hanna back!"

"He never said that!" Toby insisted, his patience thinning more by the second. "He said he was thinking about her! That's what people do! THEY THINK ABOUT THEIR EXES SOMETIMES!"

"But she's not just _his_ ex, she's _my_ girlfriend!" Holmes argued.

"Look. Forget it. Forget it!" Toby shouted, fishing into his wallet. He tossed a wad of cash onto the table. "I've had it with tonight. I'm done. You guys take the limo. I'm getting a cab."

And with that, he began to stomp away from the table. He half expected someone to stop him, but nobody tried. Perhaps he was a Groomzilla by association to Spencer's own neuroticism, and they were feeling content to let him have a hissy fit or two before his wedding day. Good. He preferred it that way. To be left alone.

He sulked the entire cab ride home, fuming as he thought about everybody's behavior. Ezra, getting plastered and acting like an irresponsible teenager. Lancaster enabling it and disappearing for half the night. Jason getting his panties in a twist over Aria and Ezra. And Holmes…he had expected better from him. What the fuck was that about? Getting like that with Caleb? All…possessive?

It was bullshit. All of it. And his bachelor party was going down in the books as one of the most frustrating nights of his life.

As he traipsed up the stairs of the house to his bedroom, he began wondering if Spencer's night was any better. He hoped so. She had been so stressed out…she deserved to have a night of fun. Out with her girls.

He opened the door and saw her sprawled on the bed, still in her party dress and tiara. She hadn't even bothered to pull the covers back, evidently having collapsed in a drunken, exhausted heap before being able to.

He sat beside her and gently brushed her jawline with his fingertips, brushing a piece of stray hair behind her ear before setting her tiara aside on the night stand. She stirred slightly.

"Toby?" she murmured without opening her eyes. She sighed contentedly. "Come to bed."

"All right," he whispered, adjusting her slightly so that he could pull the blankets over both of them. Half asleep, she curled into him immediately, resting a hand on his chest. The comfort that he gleaned from this made him calm down considerably, and he wrapped both arms tightly around her.

So it wasn't the greatest night in the world…in a couple of days, he wouldn't even be thinking twice about it. The happiness that he gained from Spencer had a knack for making everything else seem superficial and meaningless, including his horrible mood. He leaned in gently to plant a kiss on the top of her head.

"I love you," he murmured. Despite her lack of consciousness, she replied.

"Love you." It was slurry and nigh incomprehensible, but it was there nonetheless. He smiled at the thought that she could reply to this even in her sleep.

He tucked his cheek into her crown and closed his eyes, allowing a slow meditation to continue carrying him into relaxation. As he counted down from one thousand, he began to release his anger and discomfort from earlier in the evening. It wouldn't matter by Saturday. Or even tomorrow, probably. It wasn't worth fussing over.

It was one of the things he loved most about her, really. The silent ability to relax his entire being into a state of submission. It was hard to feel anything truly negative when she was in his arms. Pretty impossible, actually.

And as he drifted off to sleep, he came to the realization that he was easily the luckiest man in the entire world.


	19. Old, New, Borrowed, and Blue

**_A/N:_** _It begins! I know you are all waiting anxiously (hopefully) for the wedding chapter. I planned for it to be included here, but as I began typing away, I found that it already included loads of heart-felt moments on its own. Ending it where I did felt right. No worries, though - the time will come soon enough!_

_xoxo!  
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><p><strong><span>CHAPTER 18<span>**

The night before had been torture, as far as Spencer Hastings was concerned. It was bad luck for the bride and groom to spend the eve of their wedding together, and Spencer was no stranger to bizarre superstition. But saying good-bye to Toby and Holmes – who would be spending the night in a hotel – for the last time before she would see him at the end of the aisle…well, that was horrifying.

"You need to sit still if you want this to turn out," Melissa chastised irritably, taking Spencer's chin and yanking it back in her direction. "Unless you _want_ your eye makeup to be mismatched. If that's the case, I'm sure it can be arranged."

"Sorry," Spencer murmured distantly. Melissa cocked an eyebrow at her.

"What? No witty retort?"

Spencer scoffed. "Believe me, Melissa. Any other day, I would want nothing more than to find some clever comeback. But right now, I don't have the energy for it."

They were in the dressing room of the church, getting prepared for the ceremony that would start in less than an hour. And though the dressing room was plenty spacious, Spencer was beginning to feel rather claustrophobic. And Melissa's venomous personality wasn't helping matters.

"Spence," she began slowly with a dejected sigh. "There's no reason to be so nervous."

"I'm not nervous," Spencer spat, perhaps a little too quickly. Melissa chuckled as she continued outlining Spencer's brown eyes with black pencil.

"Right."

Spencer was only vaguely aware of the fact that her mother was double and triple checking Hanna, Aria, and Emily on the other side of the room. Probably ensuring that nobody had any unseemly pimples or runs in their stockings. She silently hoped that Hanna would be able to maintain her composure. After all, she wasn't terribly fond of being ordered around or inspected down to her last toenail.

Today was her wedding day. _Her wedding day_. And try as she might to accept this very quintessential moment, she was having difficulty. Wonderful things – lovely things – often had a bad habit of evading her entirely. It was hard to let herself get her hopes up. With her damned luck, Toby was in the process of devising a clever escape route at that very moment. Not that she would blame him. She couldn't imagine, if she were in his shoes, why he would want to marry her. She was constantly saying and doing the wrong things. Unwelcomingly correcting people's haphazard grammar and inordinate social faux pas. Striving unreasonably for perfection, unwittingly stepping on anyone who got in her way…reaching blindly for her ambitions, not considering the impact it might have on those she loved. Hell, she had treated him like horse shit the entire week, simply because her nerves were shot skyward as she fine-tuned every last matrimonial detail. How could anybody but a saint put up with her neurosis?

The answer was, somehow, simple. He _was_ a saint.

Her eyes were drawn back to the face that floated in front of her. Melissa was in deep concentration, her brow furrowed as she meticulously applied Spencer's makeup. She dismissively puffed a bothersome hair from her peripherals as she continued to work. Spencer felt a sudden balloon of guilt rise in her chest. Her older sister – a single mother – widowed at the age of 22.

"Melissa?" Spencer began quietly.

"Mmm?" Melissa responded. She was clearly distracted.

"Are you happy for me?"

Melissa paused, leaning back to assess the expression on Spencer's face. She seemed to be undergoing some internal struggle, but at last responded.

"Of course I am, Peanut," she declared. Spencer felt tears prick the corners of her eyes at the sound of the nickname she hadn't heard in years. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno," Spencer murmured. "I guess…just…what happened with Ian…"

Melissa pursed her lips tightly, her face growing dark. She seemed to be carefully selecting her words.

"What happened with Ian was tragic," she decided at last, capping the eye pencil and setting it aside. "But it doesn't mean our lives should completely stop. And it certainly doesn't mean that I can't enjoy my own sister's wedding."

Spencer smiled sadly. While she was at it, she had another pressing question.

"Do you like Toby?" she fished desperately. This time Melissa scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"What's this about, Spence?"

"You always said such nasty things about him," Spencer continued, stumbling over her words. "You said that me dating him was a disgrace to the Hastings name."

Melissa thoughtfully began applying Spencer's eye shadow, taking a moment to respond. "I said a lot of things I didn't mean," she stated simply.

"But you haven't answered me yet," Spencer pressed. "Do you like him or not?"

Melissa shook her head impatiently. "It's really not a fair question to ask, Spencer. I don't really know him. You never really brought him around the house. I mean, I understand why…with Mom and Dad being the way they were…but how can I answer a question like that without having any information to make a decision from?"

Spencer swallowed a lump in her throat. She was right. In fact, had Melissa and Toby _ever_ spoken to one another?

"But," Melissa proceeded heavily, "I like seeing you happy. And if he makes you happy, then there's no room to argue."

Cryptic as this response was, it was satisfying enough.

"All right – all done," Melissa declared, setting aside the tube of mascara. She lifted a hand mirror to Spencer, so that she could admire the work done.

Spencer's breath caught in her throat. After years of doing her own makeup, she would have expected her face to look like it did on any other day. However, Melissa had taken a totally different approach. And as vain as she felt for thinking it, Spencer had to admit – she looked _stunning_.

"Good?"

"I love it," Spencer breathed.

Melissa beamed proudly in reply, clutching one of Spencer's hands in her own. "You're going to look so beautiful today, Spencer."

It took all the willpower Spencer could muster to prevent her bottom lip from trembling.

"All right, now that we've passed inspection with the FBI…" Hanna began glumly, jerking her gaze pointedly in the direction of Veronica Hastings, "we can start getting you into your gown."

"We have precisely 39 minutes," Veronica announced. "Let's hustle."

Spencer stood from her seat and made her way to the ornate full-length mirror at the other end of the room. In its reflection she saw herself, hair and makeup immaculate, dressed simply in a slip and bustiere. She was a single woman now, but in an hour or so, she would be a wife. Where had the time gone? It seemed like only yesterday that Emily was conducting her fifth grade wedding to Bobby Benson on the playground after lunch. Their marriage had lasted all of twenty minutes, until she caught him sharing his Snack Pack with Susie Hoffmeyer.

Her bridesmaids all looked breathtaking. All four of them were dressed delicately in blood-red gowns that reached the floor. Because of the chill that still persisted in the outside air, they had opted for half-sleeves that began off-the-shoulder. Their hair was pulled into elegant French twists to match the sophisticated ensemble. She looked fondly upon each of them, silently grateful for the fact that she had such dear friends beside her on such a momentous day.

"Up," Melissa commanded. Spencer raised her arms high above her head without hesitation as her clan began to lower the full-skirted dress down over her. She kept her eyes closed, deciding she didn't want to see herself until she was a finished product. Through quiet bantering between the women in the room, the laces of her bodice were tightened and tied away, and her ballroom skirt was fluffed out and shaped. Lastly, she could feel someone delicately placing her veil into the mess of curls atop her head.

A sudden sob was all it took. She knew she was finished.

She opened her eyes and was stunned by her own beauty. She had never been very vein when it came to her appearance, but was suddenly quite pleased with the way she looked. She was beautiful. And it was perfect.

It was Aria who was crying. Melissa was shooing her away from the mirror. "Stop it this instant! I don't want to re-do your makeup!"

Veronica caressed Spencer's forearms and leaned over from behind, resting her chin lovingly on her daughter's shoulder. "You look exquisite, dear."

Spencer grinned. She couldn't help herself. She wasn't sure her mother had ever complimented her beauty before today.

"Do you have all four of your good luck pieces?" Melissa demanded, returning to her side. Spencer took only a moment to interpret this.

"Something old…Nana's pearls," she confirmed, touching them at her collar bone. "Something new – well, the dress and the veil, obviously. Something borrowed, mom's wedding shoes…and something blue – " she blushed a bit – "my garter."

"I'll bet that boy can't wait to take it off," Veronica mused, sipping on her champagne. It wasn't even 5 o'clock in the afternoon and she was already in a state of lush.

"Mom!" Spencer berated indignantly, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. In spite of herself, she laughed.

"Oh, let's not pretend that you're going to be a virgin forever," Mrs. Hastings continued, waving her hand dismissively. Oh. Right. As far as she knew, Spencer was still a virgin. Check. Not shattering _that_ dream today.

Hanna snorted. Spencer shot her a pointed look. Her mom didn't appear to notice.

"All right ladies," Veronica began, uncorking the champagne bottle. "Let's have one last toast before we get this show on the road."

* * *

><p>"What do you <em>mean<em> the vest doesn't fit?" Holmes growled in undertones to Lancaster, who was fidgeting desperately with extra room in his ensemble.

"I _mean_," he began pointedly, "that it's three sizes too big." As if to prove it, he pulled one side of the vest away from his body. "You could fit two of me in here."

"Haven't you tried it on at all before today?"

"Why would I do that?" Lancaster cried indignantly. "I mean – you'd think a tux store would _actually_ pay attention to your fitting measurements, right?"

Holmes muttered to himself, stealing a glance over his shoulder. Toby seemed occupied for the moment, between his dad's hearty claps on the shoulder and Ezra and Jason's victory shots of bourbon. He purposefully tossed his single crutch aside in preparation. After all, he had been able to handle short amounts of time without it.

"All right, here's what we're going to do," Holmes began, fishing into his breast pocket. He unearthed four safety pins, and began working at once to tighten the vest around Lancaster's frame.

"Well, hello, Martha Stewart. Had no idea you were invited," Lancaster quipped jokingly. Holmes _may_ have _non-accidentally_ poked him with the safety pin in reply. "Ow!"

"Shit, my bad."

"What else do you have up your sleeves today, Holmesy?" Lancaster chuckled. "Nail polish? Lipstick? Extra tampons, maybe?"

Holmes rolled his eyes, stepping back to admire his work. The vest now looked somewhat lopsided, but it would have to do. It would be covered by the jacket, anyway.

"Why? Did you start your period early?" he chided.

"Ha, ha, ha," Lancaster mused in response. Holmes pulled the coat over his friend and buttoned it appropriately, brushing extra lint from the cuffs. Lancaster looked down at himself then back to Holmes for approval. "Well?"

"I think we pass, man."

"Pass what?" Toby asked as he approached them from behind. Holmes offered an innocent grin.

"Getting you ready on time, bro. You look handsome, if I do say so myself. Brad Pitt, eat your heart out."

Toby rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop, you're making me blush," he joked.

"I'll be surprised if Spencer can keep her hands off you before you get to your honeymoon suite," Holmes continued. "You are one good-looking man, my friend."

"Jesus Christ, are you guys _sure_ you didn't mean to invite me to a commitment ceremony for the two of _you_?" Lancaster demanded sardonically.

Toby grinned. "Dude, jealousy is a bad shade on you."

Lancaster rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"Dude," Holmes started, studying the traveling hands on his watch. "You're getting married in ten minutes."

Toby sucked in a deep breath and let it out with a loud _whoosh_. Holmes gave him an encouraging pat on the back.

"Any last words?" Ezra asked laughingly as he and Jason approached. Toby only grinned in reply.

"You guys can only hope to be as lucky someday," he offered. Holmes was aware that he was only half-kidding.

"Save it for the toast," Jason quipped. "Don't spoil the ending."

"Not much to spoil," Holmes jeered, though his sincerity shined through like an early dawn. "We already know how this one turns out."

"It was always meant to be, you know?" Ezra said, a hint of dream-like quality in his voice as he slung an arm around Toby's shoulders. "From the first time I ever saw you two kissing in the hallway. You know…when I had to break it up because of school policy."

Toby chuckled at the memory. "Yeah, only to find out that you were having some illicit rendezvouses of your own."

Ezra flushed slightly, delivering a friendly punch to Toby's shoulder. Jason was laughing, too, evidently having moved passed the jealousy from the night at the casino.

"Listen…guys…" Toby began seriously. "I'm really glad all of you are here today. I couldn't have done it without you."

"What is this, a Nicholas Sparks movie?" Jason teased, shaking Toby by the shoulders as if to loosen him up. "Don't get mushy on us, man."

"I'm not sure who should be more embarrassed right now," Holmes started, "Toby, or _you_ for _knowing_ the name Nicholas Sparks."

The five of them shared a laugh once more. It was refreshing, in a lot of ways. All of the stress from the weeks prior had culminated in this – a wedding day fit for royalty, each of them surrounded by close friends and confidantes. Holmes was distantly aware that this would be his last chance to laugh with Toby as a single man. This didn't bother him, however – he knew that their friendship was only just beginning. Marriage would change some of Toby's priorities, but there were infinitely more things that would remain exactly the same. They would have thousands more jokes, whether he was married or not.

Their mirth was interrupted only by Toby's dad entering the room.

"Son," he started enthusiastically, "it's time."


	20. Holy Matrimony

_A/N: Well, here it is! Hopefully it is to everybody's liking. Sorry it took so long for me to update. I've been quite sick this week (yet again...sigh) and have been spending most of my time laying around and watching Gossip Girl on Netflix. Chuck and Blair are no Spoby, but I'm a little bit in love with their relationship :-) _

_Enjoy!  
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><p><strong>CHAPTER 19<strong>

_Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump._

Toby Cavanaugh could feel his heart beating wildly in his eardrums, his palms beginning to perspire with anticipation. This was the worst part. It had to be. Standing and waiting, alone at the front of the room with none of his companions to calm his nerves. He was vaguely aware of the crowd of a hundred or so guests before him, but was desperately attempting to ignore them. He was making his best effort to keep his eyes locked on the double doors at the back of the church, counting backwards in his head to sooth his own trepidations.

This was it. There was no turning back now. Not that he necessarily wanted to – he had been dreaming of marrying Spencer for months now and was still every bit as excited as before. The simple notion of being able to call her 'Mrs. Cavanaugh' was far more exhilarating than he was keen to admit.

He loved her, without a doubt – but standing up at the altar with the pastor, donned in full wedding attire, all eyes glued to him…it presented the somewhat terrifying feeling of being trapped like a zoo animal in an exhibit. Without an escape route. He was distantly reminded of the class play in second grade where he had frozen from stage fright and, without an easy exit strategy, had opted to curl into the fetal position under an auditorium chair. He hated having so many eyes on him – so many expectations. If something _were_ to go terribly wrong and he _had_ to bail – hypothetically – he would have no way out. Perhaps he could revisit his second grade strategy and simply seek refuge under the church organ…but as a full-grown man, it seemed absurdly out of the question. The 'what ifs' and anxiety-inducing rhetoric were beginning to make him feel a bit dizzy.

So he didn't know if it was relief or panic that fell upon him as the pianist began to play the wedding processional of Canon in D Major. All of the guests were turning away from him, at least – this offered some semblance of privacy to digest the moment.

He was about to get married. _Married_. Something he had been anticipating since the moment he had first told Spencer he loved her. The horrible sensation of mixed feelings began to rapidly dissipate as the double doors opened to reveal Taylor, Melissa's daughter, in a delightful child-sized replica of a bridal gown. The room echoed the subsequent 'ooo' and 'aww' sounds that the audience provided at the sight of her. Her blue eyes locked to Toby's as she began to travel nervously down the aisle, tossing rose petals at her feet. Her apparent ambivalence about the attention drawn to her was somewhat comforting to Toby, who, despite the fact that he was connecting emotionally with a three-year old, felt suddenly less alone.

Melissa and Jason were the first pair to begin walking in his direction. Melissa smiled kindly at the onlookers, a distantly sad gaze adorning her features. He knew that she was silently mourning Ian's untimely passing whilst tussling with the conflicting feeling of being supportive of her sister.

Emily and Lancaster were next. Lancaster seemed to be clutching more tightly to Emily's arm than she was comfortable with, and it showed on her face. Toby fought to suppress a chuckle. Perhaps nobody had told him yet that she had no interest in men, much less him. Her eyes met his at the end of the aisle and she offered a genuine smile, one that Toby could never decline. An immediate rush of relief coursed through his veins as he gleaned support from her gesture. He smiled back in gratitude.

Aria and Ezra weren't far behind, exchanging affectionate glances and meaningful conversations with their eyes alone. He hoped that, in light of Ezra's drunken confession about proposing to Aria, that their turn would be next. A short distance away, out of his peripherals, he could see Jason staring perhaps a bit too longingly in her direction. He felt a pang of despair for his future brother-in-law, for he could never himself bear the thought of watching Spencer create a life with someone that wasn't him.

Hanna and Holmes entered through the doorway next, each of them beaming directly at him. They had been around for a majority of the planning – had assisted with much of it, in fact – and were clearly relishing in the success of the event so far. As they parted ways in front of Toby, Holmes clapped him on the shoulder and took his place beside him. He leaned in to whisper privately.

"Nervous?"

"I have no idea," Toby mumbled back honestly. Holmes chuckled and squeezed Toby's arm.

The pianist trailed off from Canon in D Major. The brief silence that followed may as well have lasted for hours, and was enough to give Toby a heart attack. Before he knew it, the musician had transitioned to the bridal march. The guests in the church stood dutifully.

"Oh, Jesus," Toby murmured to himself, gulping down the lump in his throat. Nobody appeared to have heard him. The anticipation of this moment – this precise, exact moment in time – was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was both debilitating and adrenaline-inducing, frightening and delightful. Never before had he thought he'd be capable of feeling so many different emotions all at once. Was this normal? Was he okay? Maybe he would need to call an ambulance. Maybe his delicate psyche was unraveling at precisely the most inconvenient moment, ready to pull him into the undertow of a full-blown psychotic episode. Maybe –

Silence. Complete and utter silence settled in his brain. It was as though a million shouting voices had been placed on mute. There she was, on her father's arm, looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her. Toby would be ashamed to admit later that his knees nearly gave out at the sight of her and that his breath literally stopped midway into his lungs. The white dress reached the floor of the church, leaving a short train to trail behind her. The amount of skirting looked far too complicated for anybody with a Y-chromosome to possibly comprehend, and made it seem damn near impossible for anybody to have any mobility in. The dress hugged her perfect figure from the waist up, curling into a halter backing behind her neck. Her cleavage – which Toby couldn't help but notice, of course – was both tasteful and classy, as if she had been drawn up from an eighteenth century painting. And her smile – her dazzling, radiant smile – left Toby's mouth completely dry.

"She looks beautiful, man," Holmes murmured happily to the back of Toby's left shoulder. If he could have responded, he would have.

They reached the end of the aisle and Peter Hastings placed a gentle kiss atop Spencer's head, holding her hand to guide her up the two short steps to the altar. She paused in front of Toby, looking nervously from the floor to his eyes. She was blinking rapidly, as if to ameliorate any anxiety she may be harboring, herself. He reached out and grasped her hands tightly, bringing them to his lips. She smiled shakily.

"I missed you," she whispered.

"I missed you, too."

Toby was distantly aware that the audience had taken their seats as the pastor began to talk. Though his monologue was likely very thoughtful and insightful, Toby couldn't help but tune in and out distractedly. The depths of Spencer's coffee-brown eyes were mercilessly pulling him in, as if entrapping him on a distant sandy beach, where the only sounds were brought in with the wind and carried out with the waves. He squeezed her hands affectionately.

She was gorgeous. Exquisite. Breath-taking. A filmstrip of images was cycling rapidly through his head…the moment she had stepped onto his porch to offer her tutoring services. The first time he had ever touched her hands as he helped her catch Jenna's snow globe. Their first kiss – first exchange of 'I love yous' – first time making love. The inexplicable electricity that had been coursing between them both for years had finally culminated in this. He was vowing to dedicate his life to her, and her alone. He became abruptly aware that, despite what others had said, this was quite possibly the easiest decision he had ever made. And suddenly, any fear that he may have previously felt was a distant memory that had been washed away at sea.

He glanced briefly at Hanna over Spencer's shoulder, who was already hurriedly wiping at her eyes. Go figure. Leave it to the girls to start crying only moments into the service. What was it about weddings that made women so emotional?

It was only when Spencer reached out to gently rub her thumb across his cheek that he realized his eyes had been watering, too. He hadn't even noticed…he had been too busy picturing all of the things to come in their future. A big house with a spacious lawn, where their three children could play freely with their dog…a hand-crafted dining room table that would serve as both a family dinner area but also a location for romantic candle-lit dinners…Midnight feedings for the babies and the soothing of nightmares…secret husband-and-wife-style rendezvouses in the master bedroom after the children had fallen asleep, whispering sweet nothings to one another as they made love on the satin sheets. Growing old and feeling as though every moment was lived to its fullest, sitting on the porch drinking lemonade with grandchildren and watching the sun go down…

She must have been reading his mind, because silent tears were seeping from the corners of her eyes now, as well. He reached out to brush them from her face, as she had done for him. She smiled softly and turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand, holding it tightly to her cheekbone.

It was only the mention of his name by the pastor that knocked him from his reverie.

"Toby James Cavanaugh. Do you take Spencer Jane Hastings to be your wife, your companion, and your best friend, in good times and in bad – in times of joy and in times of sorrow – as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," he replied, hardly recognizing his own voice past the raspy emotion stuck in his throat.

Spencer smiled, bringing a hand to her mouth to stifle a small sob. Toby wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and hold her, kiss her face, tell her not to cry. He knew, however, that he wasn't supposed to do so yet. The pastor needed to hurry up, that was for damn sure.

"And Spencer Jane Hastings, do you take Toby James Cavanaugh to be your husband, your companion, and your best friend, in good times and in bad – in times of joy and in times of sorrow – as long as you both shall live?"

Spencer nodded fervently, trying unsuccessfully to speak through her tears. Hanna was laughing tearfully behind her. "She does!"

The audience laughed softly. Toby was made aware of their presence for the first time in several minutes, now hearing the vague echo of quiet sniffles among them.

"I do," Spencer declared at last, with some effort. She exhaled shakily, trying to calm her soft sobs. Toby squeezed her fingers supportively.

"Rings, please," the pastor declared. Reluctantly Toby turned away from Spencer and toward Holmes, who was fishing in his breast pocket for the wedding band. Spencer, too, was turning to Hanna to untie the ring from her bouquet.

"Toby, please place your ring on Spencer's left ring finger. This ring symbolizes the circle of eternity, tying you to one another for the remainder of your lives."

Toby acquiesced, fighting against his trembling hands to follow instruction. Spencer was giggling quietly at his slight difficulty. He could not help but grin in reply.

"And Spencer, please place your ring on Toby's left ring finger. This ring symbolizes the circle of eternity, tying you to one another for the remainder of your lives."

Spencer's grip was no better as she attempted several times to hold her hands steady to complete the task. Toby gazed down at the gold band that now adorned his left hand, and had the sudden notion that it had somehow always been there.

"By the power vested in me I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Cavanaugh, you may kiss your bride."

Barrages of gunfire couldn't have stopped Toby from doing as he was told. He had been practically leaping out of his own skin to have more intimate contact with her throughout the entire ceremony, and was all-too-eager to embrace her. He pressed his lips gingerly to hers, not quite noticing the applause that accompanied this gesture. He cradled her cheeks in his hands, forcefully willing himself to pull away before the kiss got too PG-13 for the surrounding family. Spencer was rubbing away her tears now, smiling brightly back at him. It was an image that would be forever stored in the deep recesses of his mind, delicately filed in his memory banks for eternity. He would not be able to forget the look of pure joy on her face – his _wife's face _– any time soon. His newly-appointed life-long goal was to make her happy. Nothing else quite mattered anymore. And any image of her smiling so fondly at him was therefore heartwarmingly unforgettable.

The musical recessional began and he and Spencer were quickly on their way down the aisle and out the double doors at the back of the church. No sooner had they entered the temporarily abandoned hallway that he pressed her up against the wall and kissed her as passionately as he had wanted to before. She moaned quietly into his mouth and gripped him precariously on his lower back. He knew they would only have a moment of privacy, and he wanted to savor it.

"I love you so much," he murmured into her mouth. He could feel her lips curl upward in a smile against his.

"Not as much as I love you."

It was probably only about thirty seconds in total that they were alone, and it could have never been enough. But nevertheless, it was thirty seconds of raw passion shared between a new husband and wife. Their first thirty seconds of privacy as a married couple.

The first of many firsts that would be yet to come.


	21. Intimacy

**CHAPTER 20**

"This thing is a pain in the ass, Spence. How did we not think to look at this before?" Hanna demanded incredulously through several large safety pins sticking out of her mouth, holding the train of Spencer's dress precariously in the air.

"Seriously, it's like the world's hardest puzzle," Aria agreed. She was reconfiguring the bustle to work more to their liking, as it had not been designed in a logical fashion.

"All I know is my first dance is coming up any minute now, and this skirt needs to be out of my way," Spencer snapped impatiently. "I can't believe they didn't explain how to do this…"

"It's _supposed_ to have ties on each end," Hanna argued impatiently. "I've seen a million of them on that show _Bridezillas_. But there are just so many extra pieces of fabric that don't have anywhere to go."

"Just try to pin it, then," Aria offered helpfully.

Hanna rolled her eyes and 'tutted' pretentiously. "It'll tear the tulle, Aria."

"I have an idea," Emily announced with a heavy sigh, rising to her feet. "I'm just going to get your mother."

Spencer winced in slight at the thought of her mother's entrance: she'd strut in, clicking her tongue and rolling her eyes, and would make Spencer feel like an idiot for not understanding the bustle. As much as she loved her mother, it was her own special way of guiding Spencer through the unknown: by making it obvious that Spencer was incompetent without her help. But at any rate, she was the only one who would probably understand how to manage it.

Instead, Emily returned with Melissa, who was looking particularly harried.

"What's the matter?"

"I can't figure the bustle out," Spencer whined, feeling entirely juvenile at her desperation. "The train is supposed to be tied up, and we can't get the ties to match correctly, and – "

"Move," Melissa commanded, batting Aria and Hanna out of her way. She expertly started at the bottom of the train, folding it upwards delicately. Spencer watched over her shoulder as she did so, silently grateful that Melissa's technique was already beginning to look far more practical than Hanna's solution of trying to bunch it up at her hip.

"These ties," Melissa began, referring to two magically-appearing satin strings in the fold, "attach here." To demonstrate, she completed the process with a very brief flick of her wrists. In an instant, the train was up and out of Spencer's way, and it looked far more refined than Hanna's haphazard attempt.

"I don't even know where you found those," Hanna scoffed indignantly. "I've been looking forever."

"They're imbedded in the folds of the train," Melissa explained with equal superiority. She fluffed out the skirting once more to alleviate any flattening that had occurred. "There. All set."

"Thank you," Spencer said with a sigh of relief. Despite the fact that Melissa's demonstration had been bossy as well, it was nothing compared to the lecture her mother would have given her.

"Now get out there," Melissa commanded, giving Spencer a gentle push through the bathroom door. "It's almost time for your dance."

Upon re-emerging into the reception hall, Spencer gazed around once more. When her mother and Melissa had insisted that they would take care of the decorations to Spencer's liking, they had certainly not been lying. The room was beautifully adorned with white tulle and rope lighting, red rose centerpieces, and candlelit ambiance. The appearance of it all was exquisite.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the DJ began, quieting the crowd. "I am now happy to present the new Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh, sharing their first dance to '_You're Still The One_' by Shania Twain!"

The crowd burst into applause. Spencer hastened towards the dance floor, where Toby was already waiting. Unable to suppress a grin as she approached him, she entered instantly into his arms. The opening notes to their song began to travel through the speakers around them. He took one of her hands in his and rested it against his chest, looping the other around her waist.

"Is it possible that you look even more beautiful now than you did fifteen minutes ago?" Toby whispered to her as he began to lead their dance. She beamed up at him.

"Mr. Cavanaugh, are you attempting to seduce me?" she joked in undertones.

Toby flicked his eyebrows at her flirtatiously, lowering his lips to her ear. He purposely grazed them across her earlobe, causing her to shudder involuntarily, before speaking. "This is nothing compared to what I have in store for later."

A sudden batch of butterflies were released somewhere in the depths of her stomach at the sound of the huskiness in his voice. It had only been two weeks since they had made love, but it seemed like ages. "And what might that be?"

"Well, Mrs. Cavanaugh," he continued, pausing to dip her briefly. He pulled her back into his chest and replaced his mouth to her ear. "I fully intend on starting with a romantic bubble bath, during which you may receive a full massage…I plan to explore every inch of your body with my fingertips." As if to prove his point, he ran his hand gently up and down her spine. It would appear innocent enough to the onlookers, but the dangerous words that were attached indicated much more devilish intentions. "As for what comes after…well…we need to leave something to the imagination, don't we?"

If not for the hundred-something pairs of eyes on them, Spencer could have easily removed his clothes then and there. It would take all of her power and strength to actually enjoy the remainder of the reception with such a clear picture of what was to come in the honeymoon suite.

She stuttered on her words, striving through her speechlessness to appear equally as seductive as he. "I think something of that nature can be arranged…"

"Hmm," he chuckled into her hairline. "We both know that there's no use in playing hard-to-get, Spence."

She blushed slightly, knowing, of course, that he was completely right.

"This is supposed to be the greatest day of our lives," he whispered quietly, swaying around so that she was facing the wedding cake. "And I plan to do my best to show you the most romantic wedding night to go with it."

She craned her neck back to look him in the eyes, smiling softly in his direction. "I love you so much."

He returned the gesture, lowering his mouth to hers in a brief kiss. "I love you too."

The song came to an end, and the guests erupted in applause. Spencer swore that she even saw her mother wiping away a phantom tear from her cheek. Toby took her by the hand and began to escort her back to the bridal table.

"I'm telling you – I don't know where they went – but he asked if he could talk to her," Emily was insisting hurriedly to Holmes, who looked nearly ready to jump out of his skin.

"What? What is it?" Toby demanded as they walked up behind them. He put a protective hand on Holmes's shoulder to calm him.

Emily sighed heavily. "Caleb. He asked if he could talk to Hanna, in private."

"I step away for two seconds to get her a glass of champagne, and he swoops in," Holmes growled, his jaw clenched. "I knew he was going to try something."

Toby exhaled loudly, taking Holmes by the elbow. "All right, all right. Let's find them."

Spencer had to practically run after them to keep up with their long strides, following them through the backdoor and onto the smoking patio. As much as she respected Hanna's wishes to settle things with Caleb once and for all, she sincerely hoped that was _all_ that she planned to do…because by the look on Holmes's face, any other intentions would be met with hand-to-hand combat.

And there they were, seated at a picnic table beneath the canopy, engaged in a heated discussion. Holmes looked nearly ready to spit fire.

"What are you doing?" he demanded to Caleb as they approached. Toby put a gentle hand in front of Spencer to prevent her from going any closer to the altercation.

Caleb looked up at Holmes, perplexed, trying to make sense of the new pieces of the equation. "Look, I'm not trying to start anything…"

"It's too late for that," Holmes interrupted. He took a step in front of Caleb, trying to appear as menacing as possible. Hanna stood abruptly.

"He just wanted to talk," Hanna insisted nervously. "About why we broke up. Neither of us ever really got the closure, you know?" she added. "We just needed to clear the air. That's all. Okay?"

Holmes still looked uncertain, but Hanna had inserted herself between him and Caleb, resting a gentle hand on his chest. "I promise, Derek," she proceeded. "We had some things to hash out, but it's done."

"She's right," Caleb agreed. He, too, stood up, straightening his suit coat gracefully. "I can't say that I'm too happy about the way things turned out, after everything we had talked about when you moved in together…" Holmes noticeably tensed a bit at this. "But in the end, all I want is for Hanna to be happy."

Hanna turned to him, a slightly sad smile grazing her face. "Thanks, Caleb," she said quietly. "I hope things have been good for you at UCLA."

Caleb nodded curtly. "Going as smoothly as college can, anyway."

She laughed politely. Caleb cleared his throat.

"Take care, Han," he offered. And with that, he had quickly ducked around the group to return to the reception.

Holmes was looking slightly less aggravated, but still appeared to silently be making sense of all that he had heard. Hanna was looking at him pleadingly, a silent conversation taking place.

"You good?" Toby asked simply. Holmes nodded.

"I'm fine."

Toby clapped a supportive hand on his shoulder, leading Spencer back into the building. She, too, was trying to piece together the situation.

"I've been so busy that I sort of forgot Caleb was coming," she admitted sheepishly. "I can't believe I didn't think about the trouble that would cause…"

"It's done," Toby declared, curling an arm around her waist. "The worst of it just happened, I think. Hopefully it will be smooth sailing for the rest of the evening."

Spencer smiled up at him, leaning her head onto his shoulder. "It will be."

* * *

><p>Hanna sat at the bridal table in solitude, sipping at her champagne. She was on her fourth glass now and was beginning to feel a tingling in her toes. It wasn't likely to be enough, however, to make her forget the way that Holmes had reacted. She was furious with him for jumping to conclusions about Caleb. How could he assert his dominance into a situation that he hardly understood? Especially when she and Caleb dated for far longer than she and Holmes had even known each other? It didn't seem fair or justified. He reacted like a caveman.<p>

And to make things worse, had implied that he didn't trust her.

Funny – he didn't seem to think about her trust credibility when he was falling in love with her while she was still spoken for. Asshole.

And he hadn't even had the decency to show his face back at the table since she had left him outside without any additional explanation. Spencer and Toby had left them to talk, and she was quick on their heels. He was still being a stubborn child and didn't want to hear her side of things.

Aria returned to her seat beside Hanna, fanning herself laboriously. She was flushed from dancing, a wide grin on her face. "Hey, what's the matter with you?" she inquired.

"Boys can all go to hell," Hanna muttered disdainfully, taking another swig of her champagne. Aria laughed.

"Brutal," she stated. "What did he do now?"

"Was his usual, narrow-minded, protective self."

"Ah," Aria mused, smirking slightly. Hanna turned her nose up at this expression.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Well," Aria began, taking a sip of her own wine. "Personally, I find nothing sexier than a man who's willing to fight for you."

This comment felt akin to a slap in the face. Hanna stammered incoherently, unable to formulate a defense. Aria was already on her feet once more.

"If you're wondering where he is, I saw him go in the men's room a while ago." With that, she was gone.

Hanna silently turned this over in her mind. Yeah, well…maybe it _was_ kind of hot the way that Holmes had stormed up to Caleb…but at the same time, there was absolutely nothing to be jealous about. He was just being unreasonable.

Before she knew it, she had downed the remainder of her glass and was stomping towards the men's room. If he needed time to cool off, that was too damn bad. She had a bone to pick with him about minding his own business.

She walked in, paying no heed to the older gentleman that confusedly passed her on his way out. There stood Holmes, hovering over the counter, alarmed at her appearance in the reflection of the mirror.

"Hanna?"

She ignored him and did a quick once-over of the stalls. Nobody else was in there with them. She flipped the lock shut on the door and wheeled around to face him.

"What the hell is your problem?" she demanded, folding her arms. "What gives you the right to just waltz up to me, in a private conversation, and put your nose where it doesn't belong?"

Holmes winced, but squared his jaw in preparation for defense. "I just wanted to make sure he wasn't going to try something with you."

"Like what?" Hanna spat indignantly, raising a challenging eyebrow at him. "What could he have possibly tried to do?"

"I don't know," Holmes shouted impatiently. "Try to get you back? Kiss you? Tell you he still loves you?" He was visibly clenching his fists at the very notion. "All I know is that I didn't like the thought of that…one bit."

Hanna softened in slight at this piece of explanation, taking a hesitant step towards him. "So…you just wanted to make sure I didn't want him back?"

"Yeah, I guess," Holmes muttered, staring idly at the floor. "I'm sorry if I was a jealous douchebag, but I can't help it with you. You're gorgeous, Hanna. You're always going to have guys looking at you. And I just want to make sure I'm the only one you're looking back at."

Hanna was only a few inches away from him now, lifting his chin with her hand so that he was looking into her eyes. Her heart was fluttering wildly as she asked her next question.

"What if he tried to kiss me?" she ventured. "What would you have done?"

"I would have taken him by his goddamn shirt collar and put him to the ground," Holmes said without hesitation. "The idea of anybody else being that close to you makes me crazy."

"Hmm," Hanna mused, sidling up even closer to him. A fire was lighting rapidly in her belly at the arousal she felt from his possessiveness. She had been so infuriated before…but the more he talked about it, the more she wanted him. In some twisted way, Aria was right. "Then what?"

Holmes arched an eyebrow at her, puzzled, but continued. "I would have told him to keep his damn hands off you. That he blew his chance to have them on you a long time ago. And, well, it's my turn now."

Hanna grinned mischievously. "And where do your hands go?"

Holmes recoiled, taken aback. "What?"

She roughly grabbed him by the wrists and pushed his hands onto her breasts. "You're saying that your hands are the only ones allowed to do this, right?"

He was staring at her now, attempting to mitigate some other internal struggle. He curled his hands down to her hips, guiding her closer to him.

"Damn straight," he murmured in agreement.

She trailed her fingertips down the length of his tie, grazing the buttons of his dress shirt. Her mouth hovered at the curve of his jaw, planting gentle kisses. He exhaled with difficulty. She took a step back from him, slowly sliding her arms from the sleeves of her scarlet dress. He watched in anticipation as she wriggled it past her hips and let it drop to the floor, standing before him in only a form-fitting strapless bra and a g-string.

"Hanna…" he started slowly, as if prepped for debating the issue. She silenced him by diving at his mouth, pressing her lips hungrily to his. Any resolve he may have had died almost immediately as he greedily kissed back, his hands roving over the curvature of her buttocks. He bodily lifted her onto the bathroom counter, trailing kisses from her neck to her ample cleavage. Then, all of a sudden, he pulled back for a moment to look at her.

"What if there are security cameras?" he murmured, glancing upward around the set of mirrors. Hanna grinned.

"Then I guess someone's getting a free show."

He laughed, despite the fact that he normally would have argued tooth and nail over an issue such as this. "I love you."

"I love you too," Hanna replied. She grabbed his face and pulled him back into her, succumbing to the urges that had been plaguing her for months.

* * *

><p>The night flew by far faster than Spencer had anticipated. She had always heard that it was important to savor every moment of your wedding day, for it goes by in the blink of an eye. This was sadly the case, indeed. Before she knew it, she and Toby were being bidden farewell from the reception hall with an onslaught of bubbles and applause. And she most certainly did not miss the fact that Hanna's hair was horribly disheveled, a peaceful grin plastered to her face. Toby had tried to go to the restroom earlier only to find it was locked. Spencer had a good idea of why.<p>

Only moments later, she and Toby had arrived on the floor of the honeymoon suite in the very same building. She watched with butterflies in her stomach as he unearthed the key card, sliding it through the door handle. It was almost foolish, really. It wasn't as though they hadn't made love before. But somehow, this was a different ballpark altogether.

The moment they stepped into the room, Toby had pressed her against the door. He kissed her gently but with distinct longing, brushing his fingers along the curves of her hips. She shuddered in slight.

He pulled back to survey her, taking her face in his hands and gazing at her. "You're so beautiful," he murmured softly, leaning in to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose. She smiled at him, curling her fingers around his wrists.

"I think you promised me a bubble bath, Mr. Cavanaugh," she declared. He grinned in reply.

"That I did." He took a step back from her, heading in the direction of the bathroom. "Meet me in five minutes."

She watched him go, her stomach twisting into anxious knots. She felt silly being as nervous as she was, as though it was their first time. As though she may mess something up and disappoint him. She knew deep down that this was terribly unlikely, but the prospect was causing her knees to shake nonetheless.

She approached the bed, admiring the scattered rose petals across the covers. Running her hand along the footboard, she imagined the state of it in an hour's time. Those covers would most assuredly be tossed to the floor, forgotten, the sheets rumpled from the rhythmic movement of their bodies pressed against one another. A sudden tingle appeared behind her navel at the very thought of it.

She stood before the full-length mirror to admire her appearance once more. As the night wore on, her makeup had worn off. The ringlets of her hair had begun to fall flat, back to their original, everyday shape. But nevertheless, she was still amazed at how stunning she still looked. It was hard to digest. She reached around back to untie the corset ribbons, loosening their hold. Though she hadn't realized any sort of trouble before, she found it suddenly much easier to breathe. She delicately pushed the dress down to her feet, stepping out of it and hanging it up with care. There was a moment dedicated to admiring it silently. She would, after all, never wear it again. But it would remain to be her most prized piece of clothing in her possession.

She removed her slip and pantyhose next, until she stood in front of the mirror in her bustiere and white lace panties. With a heavy exhale, she began to head towards the bathroom.

Once inside, she noticed that Toby had kept his word. There were a number of candles aligning the countertop, the lights otherwise having been turned out, and a bathtub full of bubbles. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked upon Toby, who was already in the water waiting for her. The shape of his pectorals and abdominal muscles always made her weak in the knees, and she found herself yearning to see his lower half that was hidden by the bubbles.

They locked eyes, but said nothing. Spencer slowly lowered her hands to her hips, curling her thumbs into the elastic of her panties. She pushed them down until they fell to her feet. She then reached around her back to undo the clasps of her bustiere. With slow, intentional movements, she pulled it away from her body and let it, too, find its way to the floor. Toby merely gazed at her appreciatively as she stripped down before him. Once she was entirely naked, she stepped quietly into the bathtub, sitting so that she was facing him.

"I think you promised me a massage," she whispered. Toby merely smiled in response, reaching into the water to pull at her hips and slide her between his legs. She outstretched hers to curl around his lower back. He slid his wet hands up her spine, winding small circles into her muscles. She exhaled heavily in relief.

"How's that?" he asked quietly. She could only make a nigh inaudible noise in reply. His hands continued their work, making their way around to her front. He gently massaged her breasts with both hands, making her moan softly. She could feel his increasing arousal pressing against her inner thigh, which made giving in all the more difficult to resist.

"I believe I promised, also, to explore every inch of your body," he murmured. He scooted closer so that his groin pressed more directly into hers, causing sparks to shoot through her entire body. He lowered his hands to her knees, beginning a massage pattern from there. He was slowly working his way up, making her ache in anticipation, until he reached the top-most part of her inner thighs. She could feel the proximity to her nether-regions, and she was nearly about to explode. She took him by the back of the neck and pressed her mouth against his, using her tongue to massage his. He sighed softly against her lips, making her shudder once more. She trailed her hands down his chest and towards his lower half, gently grazing his erection with her fingertips. He moaned softly in response.

"I missed this," she whispered. She had had no idea that two mere weeks could be such torture. She wanted him right here and now, moving back and forth inside of her. It took all the willpower she had to continue with the slow and steady foreplay.

"I missed it too," he agreed, trailing kisses from her earlobe down her neck. He paused at her collarbone, being sure to treat her to her favorite spot. He cupped her breast in his hand, brushing his thumb over her nipple. She felt as though she was surely going to die of anticipation. She took hold of him and closed the distance between them, so that she was straddling his hips. She cried out softly as she made him enter her, a million electric currents shooting upward from between her legs. He pressed the back of her neck more desperately, deepening the kiss as they matched one another's rhythmic patterns.

One thing was for damn sure. He had kept good with his promise to make this the most romantic night of her life. She would not soon forget the feeling of completely losing herself in their intimacy, shutting out the rest of the world around them for the remainder of their passionate wedding night.


	22. The Afterglow

_A/N: Hello lovelies! Here's another chapter! I'm sorry for the inordinate amount of sexual content, if it has been bothersome to anyone. But I figure the morning after a wedding holds a certain amount of desire for everyone. Plus, I figured some of this stuff was long overdue for Hanna and Holmes, who have been so patient dealing with their sexual tension until now, haha. _

_I have a couple more topics to cover before wrapping up the story. I'm currently plotting out Part III, fully intent upon making this a trilogy. I would love to hear your input. _

_Please enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong><span>CHAPTER 21<span>**

Spencer awoke with the sunrise the next morning. Though the dim illumination of the fading night sky was enough to normally make her draw the covers further over her head, she couldn't help but feel more appreciative of today's dawn in particular. It was the first day of being officially married, and in a couple short hours, they would be on a plane heading for Hawaii. Neither of them had ever been there before, and no amount of research had made her feel adequately prepared. Somehow, however, she was surprisingly okay with feeling a little spontaneous.

She stretched gratuitously, rolling over to appraise Toby's sleeping form beside her. The early morning glow danced beautifully across his perfect features, outlining the immaculate shape of his jawline. His naked figure was flawless, as though drawn up from a classic Victorian painting. She struggled to understand how he could grow more beautiful with every day they shared. There was not a single part of his body that she disliked – though admittedly, there were certainly parts she gave extra special attention to. The night before had been a blur of sensual endeavors, complete with cries of ecstasy, whispers of sweet nothings, and unbridled passion. After their stint in the bathtub, he had tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, quickly setting the tub to drain while he whisked her back into the bedroom. He tossed her onto the bed and climbed on top of her greedily, putting his lips and mouth in some very risqué places that Spencer had not entirely expected. The biggest turn-on, however, was the manner in which he so desperately wanted to go for Round 2. The knowledge that making love to her once was not enough, and that he needed more to feel sated. She could not complain – it was the same for her as well.

She smiled softly to him before quietly slipping out from under the covers, grabbing her black satin robe and tying it around her small frame. Ever-so-silently, she pulled back the handle of the door wall, creeping out onto the balcony. It was impossible to recall the last time she had witnessed a sunrise. But today it felt quite appropriate. Today symbolized a new chapter in her life – and she fully intended to longingly appreciate the little things that it entailed.

Leaning against the railing, she found that she was surprised by the warmth the morning carried in. To her understanding, February in Michigan was never free from snow and the bitter chill of winter. So perhaps it was the high she was riding from the night before, or the sheer disregard for any obstacles that stood in her way, or maybe, in fact, there was a blip in Mother Nature's schedule. Nevertheless, nothing could distract her from the sight before her. As the stars faded away into the blanket of morning, the sun peeking over the horizon to make its daily debut, the fresh smell of the crisp dawn air floating towards her, Spencer felt at home.

"What are you doing out here, baby?" Toby whispered as he came up behind her. He snaked his arms around her waist, planting sleepy kisses on the back of her head. She leaned into him, sighing contentedly.

"Enjoying the view. It's beautiful, isn't it?" she marveled.

Toby gently turned her face towards his, instantly melting the chocolate of her eyes with the steely blue fire of his own. "I like this view much more."

She felt her knees shake involuntarily, craning her neck to the side to kiss him gently. The stale taste of morning breath lingered on both of their lips, but she could not find the effort to care.

"Your husband is cold without you in bed," he murmured into her ear. "Please come back."

Husband. It was a simple word, derived from some Latin or Greek root, probably, but it resonated to her like utter poetry. As though it were a word that Toby had formulated on his own to purposely make the butterflies in her stomach do complicated acrobatics.

She giggled sheepishly. "We have to be on a plane in two hours, baby."

"A lot can happen in two hours," he mused, trailing kisses from her earlobe to her shoulder, pulling her robe away slightly to allow easier access. She leaned into him.

"Yeah?" she retaliated flirtatiously. "Like what?"

"Well, I'm heavily considering two options," Toby continued, burying his face into the dark locks of her hair. "Both involve going back to bed."

She chuckled in spite of herself. "Mr. Cavanaugh, are you suggesting that making love to me is in equal competition with sleeping?"

"I'd be lying if I said you didn't wear me out last night," Toby laughed. He planted a short kiss on her temple. "Another hour of shut-eye would not be opposed..."

"All right, all right," she conceded, turning to approach the door. "Point taken. Let's lay down for a while."

"Yessss," Toby muttered with mock triumph. He took her by the hand and led her back inside and towards the bed, turning to face her only long enough to play with the opening of her robe. "This," he began quietly, tugging at the slick satin ropes that held it together, "needs to go."

"Which is it, then? Sex or sleep?" Spencer demanded laughingly. He planted a kiss on her lips in reply.

"Sleep. For now," he decided. Nonetheless, he slowly pushed away at the robe, slinking it around her shoulders so that it fell to the floor. "There," he murmured seriously. "Much better."

Spencer blushed slightly at his silent admiration of her body, but knew that he probably couldn't see the crimson in her cheeks with the weak morning light. He removed his sweat pants so that he, too, was completely devoid of clothing. He climbed in, holding the blanket open to invite her, as well. She crawled in beside him.

"Why can't I wear clothes?" she asked innocently as he curled his arms around her once more.

He kissed the back of her shoulder where his lips rested, and sighed tiredly. "I like the feel of your skin against mine."

Her heart swelled at this, simple as the statement was. She, too, had begun to feel more at ease with sleeping naked beside him. Somehow, those were the best nights of sleep she ever got.

"All right," she whispered, allowing her eyes to flutter shut. "We can only sleep for a little while."

"Mmm," he mumbled noncommittally, losing further consciousness with each passing second. Spencer yawned involuntarily, drifting back to sleep in his embrace.

* * *

><p>There were very few things that could wake Hanna Marin. The first, of course, was the unbeatable Early Bird Sale at Macy's. The second was the delicious aroma of warming coffee beans.<p>

The third though – and probably her favorite – was the feeling of a man pressing into her backside.

It took her a moment to comprehend her surroundings in their entirety. She was not in her own room, but Derek's. His bed, she hated to admit, was surprisingly more comfortable than her own. He certainly went the whole nine yards with decking out his sanctuary of slumber, something that most men did not bother to do. She painstakingly recalled Caleb's lumpy mattress, and the horrible number it played on her spine. Holmes, however, got it right.

She craned her neck slightly to observe his face, which was still shrouded in sleep. He looked so peaceful lying beside her that she could not bear to wake him. Instead, she simply admired his features, recalling the events of the evening before.

She had only ever slept with one boy before. Caleb, of course. And allowing herself to become intimate with Derek so quickly had been a bit of a surprise to both of them. But after their steamy tryst in the reception hall's bathroom, it had been all that she could think about for the rest of the night. No sooner had they unlocked the door to their home that they were at each other's mouths again, hungrily feeding on one another's passion.

It was different, somehow. Different from Caleb. She had no doubt in her mind that what she had shared with Caleb was romantic and intimate, and full of love. But with Derek, there was an additional facet – unyielding desire. Never before had she felt so desperate to rip somebody's clothes off. He took care in the way he made love to her, but he had somehow made her feel more sensually attractive than Caleb ever had. There was a fiery desperation in Holmes's eyes as he backed her into his bedroom, fumbling clumsily with her dress to purge her of it. She had been given the distinct impression that he had no other care in the world aside from making her feel completely and entirely satisfied.

And the way he made love…God. It made Caleb look like an amateur. Holmes had more tricks up his sleeve than Hanna had ever thought possible. And it only made her ache for more.

So when she began to trail her fingernails down his chest this morning, she regretted nothing.

"Mmm," he murmured quietly as he stirred, his eyes opening into uncertain slits to survey her. He smiled instantaneously as he gazed upon her face. "Don't suppose I could ask for a better wakeup call."

She giggled slightly, unable to control herself. He roped his fingers into her hair, pulling her face towards his own. She kissed him back with sleepy affection.

"Do you mind if I check something?" he asked softly. She furrowed her brow, but shrugged in allowance nonetheless. He thrust the blanket towards the ceiling, surveying her naked body beneath it for a moment. He then allowed it to fall back into place. "Just as I thought," he yawned. "Still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

She laughed and playfully shoved him in the chest, backing away only enough to take a good look at him. She propped her elbow on the pillow and held her head in her hand, looking down at him and using her free fingers to trace shapes on his dark chest. "Last night was fun," she offered stupidly. It wasn't as though she had no desire to have a more intelligent conversation – It was simply that she could not gather her rational thoughts long enough to make any sort of poignant reflection.

"_Fun_?" he asked with mock incredulity, scoffing in reply. "Really? That's it?"

"Well, okay," she mused, blushing profusely. "It was pretty damn amazing."

"Better," he chuckled. In the blink of an eye, he had grabbed her by the arms and pulled her on top of him, running his fingertips lovingly across her hips. She shuddered in reply.

"I almost hate myself a little for waiting so long," she expressed, sitting up to gaze down at him. The blanket fell aside, revealing her completely naked figure towering over him. Any self-consciousness she had felt in her past, however, was forgotten. The sudden shift of weight caused both of them to exhale shakily, her legs straddling his waist.

"You had a boyfriend," he stated rationally. He grasped her thighs gently, massaging where his hands lay. She sighed happily.

"True," she admitted. "But you have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this with you."

Holmes cocked his head to the side, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "Oh?" he inquired. "How long is that?"

She averted her eyes, as if suddenly unsure of herself. He moved his hands up to her waist and held fast, awaiting her answer.

"I had a dream about it…once…" she muttered uncertainly.

His interest was certainly piqued. "When?"

"You're seriously going to make me tell you?" she whined sheepishly. He grinned.

"You can't get out of it now."

"Fine," she declared brashly, trailing her fingers along his abdominal muscles, but avoiding his eyes. "It was the night Toby left for Afghanistan."

He studied her face, attempting to recall the events of that day. Somehow, the sorrow he had felt at the time created a thick fog that surrounded the memories. "Why then?"

"I walked in on you getting out of the shower, remember?" she said indignantly, almost angry with him for not recalling this very embarrassing moment. "No towel – no nothing. Completely naked, everything hanging out in front of me."

He chuckled. Ah, yes. He remembered.

"And…well…for some reason, I couldn't get that picture out of my head," she murmured bashfully. The scarlet spreading across her cheekbones only made her more attractive. She raked her hand through her frizzy blond locks, breathing a sigh of dejection. "Are you happy now?"

"Nope," he quipped teasingly. There was something so easy about pushing Hanna's buttons, and he enjoyed himself far too much for his own good. "What happened in this dream?"

She delivered a half-hearted punch to his chest, her blue eyes flaring up with frustration. "What do you _think_?"

"I'm not sure," he said, feigning innocence. "We could have gone bowling in this dream, for all I know."

She huffed impatiently, climbing off of him and out of bed. She was pulling on the first clothes she could find, which happened to be Holmes's button-down dress shirt from the wedding. The way her porcelain skin glowed against the white color was breathtaking. She tossed her hair out of the collar irritably, whipping around to face him.

"Go ahead," she hissed. "Make fun."

"I'm only making fun of you because – well – you have to admit it's pretty funny," Holmes reasoned. This was clearly the wrong thing to say, for she released a growl from somewhere deep within her diaphragm. She was buttoning up the shirt now, hiding her body from his eyes.

"Oh, c'mon, Han," he pleaded laughingly, reaching out to take her hand. "Come back."

She wouldn't look at him. "No," she stated definitively, sounding surprisingly like a child.

Holmes rolled his eyes in spite of himself. "Hanna," he began in an even tone, "this is what we do. We tease each other. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

She crossed her arms, still looking away from him. The testosterone within him couldn't help itself – the underside of her buttocks were peeking through the bottom of his shirt, and God help him, he couldn't avert his eyes.

"Well, you did," she replied, but was clearly losing some degree of her anger in the process. She smoothed down the shirt over her figure, as if making sure none of his favorite parts were any longer visible.

"Look," he sighed resignedly. "Would it make you feel better if I told you I had a dream about you, too?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, as if afraid to trust the bait.

"The night of our house party," he recalled aloud. "You know – when you came with Caleb. And Cody basically ruined the entire night for everyone."

She was slowly turning to face him now, unable to resist hearing the rest. "That was the first day you met me," she reasoned.

"Yeah," Holmes admitted, playing with the hem of the sheet around his waist. "And you were stunning."

She was approaching him with hesitant steps now, still looking unsure of whether to trust his words. "What did you dream about?"

"Hmm," he mused, reaching out to take her hand. "Well…it was the sexiest dream I've ever had, I'll tell you that much."

She blushed slightly, but did not completely cave. "What happened _specifically_?"

"Oh, that," Holmes teased, running his hand up the outside of her thigh. She gasped quietly as he brushed her buttocks en route. "I could tell you…but I'd rather show you."

The scarlet in her cheeks increased tenfold, but she did not protest. He sat up to take her gently by the hips, pulling her closer to him.

"It started out much like this," he mused as he began to unbutton his shirt from her frame. He allowed his fingers to linger in each spot as he delicately began to disrobe her. "I'm ashamed to admit that I had this kind of dream about a girl I had just met – who was clearly already taken…"

"You can't control what you dream about," Hanna rationalized quietly, perching her hands on his shoulders as he continued his work. "They just…happen."

"I suppose they do," he agreed as he relieved the last button from its duty. The shirt fell open against her skin once more, held only slightly closed by the inner curvature of her breasts. He peeled it away to gaze at her, planting kisses along her stomach. She sighed happily.

"I don't know what you're doing to me," she admitted out loud, snaking her fingers through his short hair. "I seriously can't say no to you."

"Good," he murmured at her belly button, grazing his fingers along her hipbones. She flinched only briefly. "Because I have never felt so in love with somebody my entire life. So completely enamored with somebody's body…so outstandingly unable to keep my hands off of you."

Within seconds she was climbing back on top of him, running her hands along his chest, leaning in to kiss desperately at his neck. The feeling of her hair brushing against his face and her breasts pressing into his ribs was enough to send him spiraling out of control.

"I didn't expect to love you," she mumbled into his collarbone. "I felt guilty for even thinking about it."

"Me too," he panted, grabbing desperately at her chin to pull her up to his mouth. He kissed her with reckless abandon, pawing at her body like a pubescent high school amateur. It was something about her, though – something that made him unable to strategize any of his next moves.

She rolled her tongue against his, cupping his face in her hands as she did so. He could feel the heat generating at their nether-regions, which rested precariously close to one another.

"You're amazing," he murmured into her mouth. "I have no idea how to control myself right now."

She sat up to look at him then, running her hands down his abdomen. He shuddered. "Then don't," she whispered seductively. She swiftly repositioned herself so that they fit together, continuing what they had only begun to explore the night before.


	23. The Impending Shadow

_A/N: I have a few chuckles in this one for you. Hope you enjoy! Another couple chapters or so before we wrap up and start thinking about part three. _

_I'm getting mixed reviews about Hanna/Holmes...my apologies if anybody is disappointed by the pairing. I had promised some readers of SWY that I would do a back-burner exploration of Hanna/Holmes in this story, and I've been trying my best to develop their relationship while still regarding them as "supporting characters." I hope everybody understands and will still continue to read!  
><em>

_This chapter includes some Jaria moments. Please, folks, no rotten fruit - I happen to like me a bit of Jaria. It may seem random for now, but I have plans to develop it in part III. I'm also setting some other plots up for it...hopefully it will go over as planned!_

_xoxo_

* * *

><p><strong><span>CHAPTER 22<span>**

"No, you don't understand," Spencer insisted, leaning almost the entirety of her upper body over the counter to challenge the airport desk clerk. "These are tickets for the flight that will take us on our _honeymoon. HON-EY-MOON_. They can't possibly be wrong."

"I'm sorry," the attendant behind the desk offered, sliding the envelope definitively across the marble surface. "These tickets are for a 9PM flight, not 9AM."

"That's impossible," Spencer growled, dropping her bags to her sides at last to survey the tickets herself. With shaking hands, she yanked open the envelope, ignoring a paper cut sustained along the way.

"It's all right, Spence," Toby was saying over her shoulder, looking on at the glaringly disappointing numbers on the paper before them. "We can come back."

"No," she insisted flippantly, glaring daggers over the counter. "We _need_ to be on a 9AM flight."

The clerk sighed impatiently. "I'm sorry, Miss, but we don't even offer a flight at that time today."

"Then _make one_!"

"Spencer," Toby said warningly, grasping at her shoulder.

She was pushing wisps of hair out of her face in determined frustration. "You don't spring this kind of news on a newlywed. That's like just _asking_ to get your ass kicked."

The clerk pursed her lips together in disapproval. Toby sensed the immediate need for damage control.

"It's okay, babe," he began, turning her to face him. "I'll take care of it. Just go sit down and do your relaxation exercises, all right?"

She huffed, slamming the tickets down on the counter top and beginning to stomp away. "A whole twelve hours gone from our itinerary. Twelve hours!"

"Spencer…" Toby began, attempting to placate her retreating figure. She irritably collapsed into an uncomfortable-looking airport chair, crossing her arms. He waited for her to glance in his direction, but she was determinedly refusing to do so. She looked close to tears, despite her hard exterior. He knew how frustrated she got over her schedule being disrupted – and not only was this no exception, but it was a _particularly _sensitive case. She looked down to play with the buttons on her dress coat, taking deep, shuddering breaths.

"Look," he began, turning to face the desk clerk. "I'm sorry for my wife's…volatility. She doesn't mean any harm by it, really."

"Hmm," the attendant mused darkly, arching a perfectly penciled eyebrow. "Clearly."

"If we could just get these exchanged for something earlier, I'll pay the difference," Toby offered, fishing into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. "Is there anything else available?"

The attendant, with a short _harrumph_ of impatience, turned to her keyboard and began clattering away with her long fingernails. Toby waited eagerly, looking over his shoulder at Spencer. She was looking longingly out the window, watching a number of commercial jets ascend outside the building, her brown eyes glistening with disdain.

To any other person in the same situation, a twelve-hour flight change would be manageable. But Toby was well aware what he had gotten himself into with Spencer Hastings – a complete, obsessive attachment to schedules and organization, and utter confusion and disarray at any immovable obstacle that thereof interfered with her plan. She handled unpredictability poorly, and despite the neuroticism that accompanied it, he loved her all-the-more for her stubbornness.

He knew she kept a bottle of prescribed Xanax in her nightstand, in case of overwhelming and impending anxiety attacks. He was aware that she took a bubble bath every night to simply calm the nerves that had accrued throughout the day. He also happened to be privy to the fact that she secretly outlined her entire day in a purple spiral notebook, leaving only so much room for the possibility of misconfigured time. It was the primary part of her personality that most men may have difficulty mitigating; but for Toby Cavanaugh, it was an endearing part of the packaged deal. He happened to be fluent in Hastings Panic-ese, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"I have an earlier flight, but you'll still have to handle a layover at LAX, so it's still not quite buying you the time you wanted," the attendant began, green eyes glued to the computer screen. "It leaves in two hours."

"We'll take it," Toby breathed, flipping through the cash in his wallet. "What do I owe you?"

There was some additional _clickety-clack_ of her nails on the keyboard. "Two hundred and fifty."

Toby winced slightly at this, gazing down at the limited amount of money he had been able to put away for the trip. It would not break the entire honeymoon, certainly, but still posed the potential for running short near the end. One last look at Spencer's forlorn expression made him confident, however, that he would simply _have_ to make it work.

"All right," he sighed at last, pulling out the required bills. The clerk continued to feverishly enter more information into the computer. Toby returned his wallet to its proper location in his back pocket, gathering the new tickets and luggage and heading in Spencer's direction.

"…Won't be able to attend the luau, or go on the Pearl Harbor museum tour," she was muttering to herself, scanning the planner of her phone and chewing absent-mindedly on her acrylic thumbnail. She did not even notice him approaching.

"Baby," Toby began quietly, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. She started at his voice.

"You scared me," she breathed, one hand flying to her heart. "I can't believe this, Toby…it totally messes up all of our plans for today…"

"Spence, listen," he said, squatting down on the floor beside her. "I got the tickets exchanged for a flight in two hours…we're still going to lose some time, but I hope it's better."

The sparkle that appeared suddenly in her eyes as she flung her arms around his neck in gratitude made the two hundred and fifty dollars well worth it.

"Oh, thank God!" she cried, pulling back to survey his face. "You're the best! That means we can still go to the luau – the Pearl Harbor tour may be out, but maybe we can squeeze it in later in the week…" She trailed off, referring back to her phone to feverishly reorganize their itinerary.

Toby took a seat beside her and watched her fondly as she fumbled through her phone, mumbling directions to herself under her breath. It was moments like these that made Toby happiest. His wife was easily the most melodramatic person he had ever met when it came to schedules and planning, but to him it was endearing. Perhaps it would be nerve-grinding to the average Joe, who preferred spontaneity over electronic itineraries. Other men may be anxious to change this quality of Spencer's, but Toby relished in watching her successfully traverse a challenge. Nothing made her happier – and by extension, his own heart soared at her triumphs.

"Snorkeling on Wednesday," she murmured to herself, turning to Toby and grinning. "I've always wanted to go…are you as excited as I am?"

He smiled back, rubbing small circles on her opposite shoulder. He leaned in to plant a soft kiss on her temple. "Whether we're in scuba gear swimming with the fish, or stuck in a shady motel with a bad cockroach problem, I'm most excited to spend the week with you."

Her smile fell to a serious expression, gazing at him adoringly. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he agreed. He scooted closer to her, gesturing to the phone in her lap. "So. Tell me what else you have planned."

* * *

><p>It was 11:00 at the house, and Hanna had only barely managed to finish preparing for company. Holmes had been rather useless – as most men usually are when it comes time to entertain house guests – and had sat idly by sputtering like a fish out of water. In all fairness, it had been Hanna's idea to host a wedding party brunch before Aria, Emily, and the rest of their guests departed back to their homes; but judging by the laser beams shooting from her eyes, he had nonetheless been expected to adequately contribute.<p>

"You look nice this morning," he had offered pathetically.

She had hardly batted an eyelash before responding distractedly.

"Yep."

It was at that point that he thought it was wisest to simply give up.

Aria and Ezra had been the first to arrive with a dish to pass, followed closely by Jason, Emily, and Lancaster. Melissa had politely declined, insisting that she would need to get Taylor back home to rest before school the next morning.

The brunch started out like any other – laughter, reminiscence of the evening before, and shared respects to the happy couple.

"The bachelor party was something to remember, huh?" Holmes chuckled, looking pointedly at Ezra. "You made some risky moves with your money, Fitz."

Aria glanced at him worriedly. Ezra merely shook his head to deflect the comment.

"Perhaps – but who walked out of that casino with four thousand dollars?"

"Of course man, you knocked it out of the park," Jason conceded, holding hands up in mock surrender. "You steamrolled all of us with your winnings."

"Denny's was the best part though," Holmes insisted, laughing. "Ezra was damn set on having real sugar for his coffee…he got so pissed about the Sweet 'N Low."

Hanna stared at him, bewildered. Holmes cleared his throat and shrugged sheepishly. "Well…maybe you had to be there…"

"It's all right. Hanna kissed Emily at the club," Aria offered, a mischievous smile on her face.

Holmes turned to Hanna immediately to confirm the tale. She was blushing an attractive shade of fuchsia.

"I only did it to make some assholes stop hitting on her," she began.

"And it worked," Aria confirmed. "I don't think a single guy came up to Emily for the rest of the night."

"Nope," Hanna replied triumphantly. "I'm the best cock blocking wing girl to have at your side."

The table broke into laughter at this comment.

"How hungover were you the next day, anyway, Ezra?" Lancaster asked curiously, spreading butter onto the last remaining onion bagel. Ezra sighed dramatically.

"It was pretty bad," he admitted.

"Oh my God, yes," Aria agreed, shaking her head. "He wouldn't even let me open the blinds in our hotel room."

"It's no wonder…You should have seen him at the casino," Lancaster began laughingly. "Drunk out of his mind – we were trying to get him in the limo and all he could do was keep going on about a ring…"

Holmes delivered a swift kick to his kneecap below the table, but had not done so soon enough. Lancaster doubled over in pain, his sudden cry of surprise masking what would have otherwise been a noisy clatter of silverware hitting porcelain.

"Ring?" Aria breathed, looking at Ezra incredulously. Ezra avoided her eyes and took a heavy gulp of his orange juice, as if steeling himself for the task at hand. Jason was eyeing her protectively.

"I…uh…it was going to be a surprise," Ezra mumbled under his breath. The fast-settling silence in the room, however, made his statement practically echo off the walls.

"That's positively not something we can afford right now," Aria was hissing quietly. "Not only that, but I already told you – my parents have to get used to the idea of us being back together before I'm willing to spring anything on them…"

Ezra cleared his throat, looking across the table at Holmes for assistance. Holmes could only wince in reply.

"I just thought…you know…with Spencer and Toby getting married…that you might have the wedding bug and it would be a good time to – "

"Wedding bug?" she growled. "You were going to propose to me _just_ to avoid hearing me talk about my best friend's wedding?"

"Look. Can we talk about this later?" he muttered discreetly. It was clearly the wrong thing to say, for Aria had risen to her feet.

"Why should we? We've obviously had the entire conversation in front of everyone we know already, anyway!" Emily reached out to take Aria's hand supportively, but she yanked it away. "Is it so much to ask to _try_ to make that kind of moment a special one? When we have my parents' blessing?"

"Aria," Hanna placated. "Ezra's just trying to – "

"If you even dare take his side, I will dump my orange juice in your Gucci purse," Aria threatened. Hanna reeled back immediately as if slapped.

"We _just_ got back together," she said venomously. "In no way, shape, or form are we in a position to be thinking about this!"

"All right…you're right," Ezra was pleading desperately. "I'm sorry. Will you sit back down so we can spend time with our friends?"

"They're not your friends – they're _my_ friends!" Aria spat. Hanna and Emily exchanged looks of shared disbelief. Neither had ever seen Aria so hostile towards Ezra before.

Aria threw her cloth napkin onto her plate, as if signifying the end of the conversation. "I'm going for a walk." With that, she was bee-lining for the door.

The group looked at one another somberly, attempting to make sense of Aria's outburst. Jason was the first to stand, making his way to the door to follow her.

"You've got to be kidding me," Ezra grumbled, burying his face in his hands. "Of all the people to go with her…"

"It's not like that," Emily offered comfortingly. "He just…he _gets _her, you know?"

"They dated for six months while we were broken up," Ezra argued, giving Emily a deadpan stare. "He's not exactly the one I want talking to her right now…"

"I'll go," Hanna offered, standing and making her way to follow suit. She had hardly descended the porch steps before she caught them out of the corner of her eye, talking feverishly beneath the hibernating cherry blossom tree in the front yard.

"…of all the things to do when this is going on," Aria was venting sadly, tears trickling down her cheeks. "I don't have time to deal with this right now – and neither would my parents…"

"You have to tell him," Jason murmured, taking her gently by the hands. "It's not something you can keep to yourself. It will make you insane."

Aria shook her head fervently. "No. I can't. I'm not going to rush back into this relationship with more baggage than I had when we split up."

"But he loves you," Jason said softly. "He would want to know…to be there for you…and take care of you."

Hanna had the distinct feeling that Jason's soliloquy was dripping with hidden meaning. He reached out to affectionately tuck a piece of hair behind Aria's ear.

"It's only fair to give him that chance."

Aria exhaled with a loud _whoosh_, wiping the tears away from her face. She politely stepped away from Jason's hold, as if uncertain of how to otherwise let him down easy. "You're right. I should. I should go talk to him…"

Hanna chose that moment to make her presence known. With a soft clearing of her throat, both Aria and Jason whipped around to face her, looking akin to two deer caught in headlights.

"Aria," she began pathetically, "are you okay?"

Jason took a step back from Aria, as if burned by their proximity. "I'll give you girls a chance to talk…excuse me…" He ducked quickly around Hanna and back into the house, avoiding eye contact the entire way.

Hanna looked questioningly at Aria, awaiting a feasible explanation. Though the weather was slightly warmer today than it had been, the chill on the wind was still enough to make her breath come out in wisps. She wanted desperately to ask about what Aria was hiding from Ezra, but decided against invading her privacy. She would talk to her when she was ready.

"I'm just…confused," Aria admitted at last, stepping closer to Hanna so that she could rest her head on the blonde's shoulder. "It just feels like everything is moving so fast now…"

"Can I ask you a question?" Hanna interrupted, wrapping an arm around Aria's tiny frame. "An honest one?"

Aria scoffed dejectedly. "Sure. I probably owe it to you."

"When you told me a few months ago that Jason was a rebound…did you lie?"

Aria started, drawing away from Hanna with a haste that suggested guilt. She considered her question for a moment before responding.

"No. Er – yes – I mean…maybe. I mean, I love Ezra…but Jason was there for me when I needed someone the most."

Hanna reached out, using both hands to rub up and down Aria's forearms comfortingly. "Maybe it's Ezra's turn, then," she offered somberly. Aria merely nodded, fresh tears clinging to her doe-eyed lashes.

"I know."

"But whatever you decide – whatever makes you happy – I'm behind you 110%. Remember that, too."

Aria did not say anything. Both girls understood what this simple statement meant.

"C'mon, let's go back inside," Hanna offered, taking Aria by the hand. "You're freezing."

Aria's bottom lip quivered. "I just need a minute…is that all right?"

Hanna squeezed her fingers reassuringly, offering a sad smile in reply. "Of course. I'll give you some space."

"No," Aria said quickly, holding fast to Hanna's hand. "Can you stay with me?"

Hanna felt her heart melt at the sight of Aria looking as lost and confused as she did. She immediately moved in to wrap her into a hug.

"As long as you need me to," she answered loyally.

* * *

><p>The plane ride was horrid. If Spencer wasn't as in love with Toby as she, in fact, was – she would have given him a swift kick in the balls for his insanely embarrassing snoring. He was making it damn near impossible for her to rest at all for the majority of the trip, and was drawing attention from nearby passengers. She had attempted to elbow him in the ribcage a few times, but to no avail – he was down for the count.<p>

She had chosen, instead, to try watching the scheduled film. It was the latest _Toy Story_ movie, a friendly option for the entire family. Attempting to lose herself in the story by cranking up her headphones, her mind began to wander.

She and Toby were married now. Legally bound. Fates intertwined for the rest of their lives. She was every bit as thrilled to be his wife as she had always been…but random bouts of panic had begun to set in. There were so many things they hadn't really talked about or officially established, as most engaged couples should prior to their ceremony. It wasn't as though they had purposely avoided topics about their future…it was simply that they had been bogged down by other distractions. Deployments. Ex-cons. Car accidents. Even the wedding planning, itself.

But now that she had a moment to finally breathe a sigh of relief…a million thoughts were now racing through her mind.

How many children would he want to have? She had caught him playing what would have otherwise been a heart-warming game of Peek-A-Boo with the triplet toddlers across the aisle. Their mom hadn't even been paying attention to them, and her sweet Toby had taken it upon himself to entertain them. But she felt her stomach twist into knots at the way he gazed at them when he squeezed her hand. It was something like…_longing_. Spencer only wanted two children – two girls to be exact – and if Toby was counting on her popping out three at a time, he was in for a sore disappointment.

Where would they live? It wasn't as though they had really had an opportunity to save much money as of yet. She was a struggling college student on a scholarship that provided very little leftover finances after tuition. She could pay her share of the rent at the frat house, but that was about it, to be honest.

Toby was a military man who had been earning a decent paycheck while deployed. But now home, he, too, would seek to begin his college career. This bode poorly for financing a home of their own.

Even the most miniscule details were haunting her now – dog or cat? Both? Neither? She was a dog person, herself…but what if Toby didn't like dogs? She had never really discussed it with him before.

All of her worries were coming to a head when he finally stirred in his seat, reaching out to squeeze her knee lovingly. She removed her headphones, staring down at his hand.

"Have you slept at all?" he asked quietly.

"No." She avoided his eyes and opened her book to the marked page, desperate for a real distraction.

"Spencer," he began slowly, craning his neck to catch her eyes. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she offered pathetically. He made a low sound of frustration in his throat.

"Baby…c'mon."

She exhaled heavily, setting the book down hard on her lap. She was speaking before she even realized her mouth was moving.

"How many children do you want to have?"

He furrowed his brow, confused for a moment. Then, no sooner had the expression appeared, it was gone, replaced by a smirk.

"Are you really worrying about this right now?"

"Just answer the question," she pleaded, turning to face him. She resented the amusement that was flickering in his sapphire eyes.

"Well," he started, rubbing her knee, "I was hoping for two or three."

Two or three. _Two or three_. That was manageable.

"All right," she conceded. "What about pets?"

"Spencer," he began worriedly, "what's going on?"

She sighed loudly, folding her hands in her lap. Her eyes were trained on them there for a moment, attempting to gather her thoughts properly.

"I just want to make sure we have all of our ducks in a row," she answered honestly. She pulled a face when he responded with a chuckle.

"I would say that we don't need to worry about it right now…but I know how you are," he said with a sly grin. "To be honest, there are a lot of things I've thought about – and a lot that I haven't." He reached over to take one of her hands in his own, using the pad of his thumb to massage her knuckles. "But whatever the topic may be, I'm willing to negotiate. That's what a marriage is. Compromise."

She winced. She had always hated that word. Her parents had used it continuously throughout her childhood, in reference to her disagreements with Melissa. And from her experience, "compromise" was usually equated with "sacrifice." And not the kind of sacrifice where the person gained anything from the deal in return. Melissa always won out. With everything.

But the look of sincerity in Toby's eyes calmed her nonetheless. She knew that he would be willing to discuss all of their options when the time came. And he – if anyone – would be completely open-minded in their decisions.

"You're right," she stated at last, squeezing his hand in hers. "I guess I'm just coming down from the wedding day high and stressing about everything and anything imaginable."

He chuckled, extracting his arm to wind it around her shoulders. "Relax. It's our honeymoon. You're not supposed to get worked up over grown up details just yet."

Try as she might to resist, she could not help but smile. She cocked her head onto his shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of his cologne. Relaxation. Compromise. Negotiation. These buzzwords would have to succeed in distracting her for the course of their vacation.

"Right," she thought out loud. "It's our honeymoon. We're supposed to be wallowing in a romantic getaway."

"Exactly. Now you're talking. It's about enjoying each other's company and discovering new sights…together."

They sat in silence for a moment while she considered the implications of this realization.

"Toby?" she asked suddenly, trailing her fingernails along his wrist.

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever joined the mile-high club?"

He paused, reeling back slowly to look at her. "What?"

"I was just thinking…this trip is all about new experiences, right? New firsts that will set the stage for the rest of our lives?" She turned to face him, rubbing her thumb along his bottom lip. He shuddered ever-so-slightly in reply.

"Well…to answer your question…no, I haven't," he started hesitantly.

She beamed at him. "Meet me in the bathroom in three minutes," she whispered suggestively. As she stood up and began to shimmy past him into the aisle, she had to hold back laughter at the look of utter surprise on his face. She had succeeded in stumping the Great Toby Cavanaugh. _At last_!

She slipped into the tiny compartment in the back, assessing her face in the mirror. She looked utterly disheveled from the chaos of the day's earlier events. It was a Hastings curse – gaining the appearance of five years in a single day based on miniscule stressors.

She had barely had a chance to improve the mess that was her hair before Toby came barreling in with her. He shut the door quickly behind him, staring her down like a man with a mission.

"Toby – " she began, surprised. He grabbed her by the hips and pushed his lips onto hers, his tongue instantaneously dancing in a pre-determined rhythm against hers. She felt a debilitating tingle appear behind her navel. It was suddenly glaringly obvious that Toby had some sort of fantasy surrounding this very scenario, for his hands were unabashedly exploring several parts of her body faster than she could even blink.

In one swift movement, he had hiked her legs around his waist and hoisted her onto the sink. There was a look of fiery desire in his eyes as he began to plant a trail of kisses from her earlobe to her clavicle, desperately pulling away at her blouse. Her eyes fluttered shut at the sudden intimate contact. He then took her passionately by the face and crashed his lips back onto hers, nibbling recklessly at her mouth.

"Good idea?" she panted against his tongue. He was pressing up against the apex of her thighs, his hands buried deep in her chaotic chocolate locks.

"Best idea ever," he replied, equally as breathy. He was fumbling now with the button of her jeans. "We have to hurry – the guy behind us that ate all those tacos earlier was starting to look a little squeamish."

And in spite of herself, Spencer began to laugh uncontrollably. Toby took only a moment before he was also hovering over her, shaking with mirth. It felt good to laugh, after the morning she had had. And only Toby could manage to cheer her up after such a disruption.

They spent a minute reflecting laughingly on this unfortunate image, wiping tears from their eyes and releasing shaky exhales, before Spencer reached behind her back to unlatch her bra. Then they were all business once more. His eyes drunk her in hungrily, his hands roving over her curves.

"Let's make ourselves official members," she whispered, pressing her lips to his once more.


	24. How Far We've Come

_**A/N:** Let us, once more, delve into the realm of the unbridled passion between our favorite couple. By no means have I intended to replace true plot with continuous sexual content, but with newlyweds, what can you really expect? _

_This is our final chapter before the epilogue. Again, I intend to start Part III quite soon. Please let me know how you would like to see the final installment of the trilogy unfold!_

_I also wanted to invite you guys to follow me on Tumblr. My username is bluerosemarcella. So you should type bluerosemarcella (dot) tumblr (dot) com. I look forward to posting with you all!_

_I would like to thank everybody who has followed me faithfully through both stories, especially those of you who have consistently left detailed commentary about what you've read. Nothing helps an author more than hearing specific feedback about what was enjoyed and what readers would like to see more of. _

_Please, oh please, leave me some love! _

_xoxo_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 23<strong>

After the most hellacious morning imaginable, the day was coming to a close. With Spencer's grumpiness finally subsiding, the very moment they landed in Hawaii was like the start of a brand new day. Toby's heart swelled twice its size at the look on Spencer's face as they dismounted the plane, her eyes growing wide with wonder and her lips curling back in the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. Perhaps he would be able to salvage the trip, after all. Nothing made him happier than when Spencer was enjoying herself; and from the time they had arrived to the current moment they shared indulging in expensive fine dining, her grin had not faltered.

"I can't believe we're finally here," Spencer mused as she used her knife to slice off another piece of steak. It was the third or fourth time she had said it since they had landed only a couple of hours ago. Toby had to agree, though – the island was immaculate. It was the sort of tropical paradise that people only visit in their wildest, lottery-winning daydreams. Their resort, alone, was like something out of a movie: gorgeous, expensive-looking décor and endless amenities, fit for royalty. The bathtub alone was the size of a public Jacuzzi anywhere else, and the crystal vessel sink immediately caught Spencer's eye. She was already going on about wanting to invest in a sink like that at home someday.

It was dusk in the Pacific now, though the temperature was still quite warm. Spencer and Toby were seated on a dining patio at a local restaurant down the street from their hotel. It was hosting luau festivities tonight, the entire deck lined in tiki torches and hanging lights. A small band was playing in the center pavilion, the sounds of the ukulele floating on the ocean wind and back to their table. Vases of orchids and anthuriams lined the patio as well, creating a pleasant aroma of floral abundance.

And Spencer, of course, was the most gorgeous sight of all. She had decided to wear a turquoise-patterned sundress that tied behind her neck, exposing her already lightly tanned shoulders and back for the warm night. Her hair was pulled into a loose plait that hung over the front of her shoulder – one of Toby's favorite styles – and she had actually made a feeble attempt at applying a dash of makeup. But as the firelight danced upon her face, illuminating a look of intense concentration as she pored over the menu and chewed on her thumbnail, Toby could think of no other direction that he would rather be looking.

She broke him out of his reverie when she sighed happily once more, looking out towards the ocean waves, resting her chin on her hands.

"It looks lovely out there," she said dreamily. "I can't wait to see it in a half hour or so when the sun is down."

Toby was busy marveling at the curvature of her cheekbones when she finally turned to him, looking sheepish. "What? What is it?" She self-consciously used her napkin to wipe around her mouth once more, as if afraid she had food stuck to her face. He merely chuckled in reply.

"I'm just admiring my wife's beauty. Is that allowed?"

Even with the sun going down, Toby saw the modest blush that peppered her cheeks. She smiled shyly in return.

"I like that word," she admitted.

"What? Beauty?" Toby joked. He knew which one she was referring to.

"Wife," she confirmed. She reached across the table to squeeze his hand affectionately. "I'm a _wife._"

"You're not _a wife_…you're _my wife_," Toby corrected proudly, raising her hand to his mouth to kiss. Another warm wind skittered over the beach and through the patio, tousling loose tendrils of Spencer's hair in its wake. She grinned.

"And you're _my husband_," she agreed. Toby could not deny the feeling of several butterflies being set free in his belly at the sound of the word. He, too, was adjusting to its gravity.

"How is your dinner?" he asked.

"Mmm," she gushed through her sip of wine. "It was delicious. I'm stuffed." As if on cue, the waiter had returned to their table to clear plates and collect payment. Toby insisted he keep the change.

"What do you think it's like?" she asked dreamily, looking outward towards the pavilion. "Living in a place like this full time?"

"Well," Toby began, "I'd imagine that it probably doesn't feel quite as special when you've been here all your life."

"Hmm." She sighed happily, absentmindedly playing with the wedding band around her left ring finger. "Well I fully intend to make the most of our time here. I want to experience everything that's available to us."

Toby could practically feel his wallet crying at this statement. But he could never, in his wildest dreams, deny her anything. He followed her gaze towards the nearby band, thinking quickly. Standing suddenly, he offered a hand to her. "In that case, how about we start with a dance?"

Spencer looked around uncertainly. There were other couples dancing out in the pavilion, despite the fact that the ukulele music wasn't quite fit for it. She took his hand, nonetheless, and allowed him to lead her across the way and into the softly lit gazebo, acquiescing easily as he put one hand on her waist and curled her fingers into his other. They began a steady waltz, making the most of the music that was being provided.

She looked up into his adoring sapphire eyes, fighting to remember a time that she didn't love him. She knew it existed, but it seemed so long ago – like something from a past life. It was nearly impossible now to imagine how she could have ever hated him or mistrusted him. He was the most important person in her life, and was easily the most trust-worthy. His case was the only one, in fact, that Spencer could recall judging inaccurately. She was usually quite good at reading people's motives.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked softly as he swiftly moved her across the wooden planks beneath their feet. She wondered vaguely where he had learned to dance like this.

Her lips curled upward into a smile. "Just thinking about how far we've come."

"Mmm," he murmured thoughtfully. "Where are you considering the starting point to be?"

Spencer crinkled her nose in pre-emptive apology. "The night Ali disappeared."

"Ah, yes," he said lightly, making sure not to allow this memory to ruin the moment. "Back in the day of mean girls and secrets and lies. I remember fondly," he added sarcastically.

"I'm sorry I misjudged you," Spencer stated earnestly. It was easily the hundredth time she had said it to him. "But thank God Emily had a decent head on her shoulders…she hardly had to look at you to figure out that you had nothing to do with that mess."

Toby reached out to tuck a piece of loose hair behind her ear, looking into her eyes pensively. "Who knows where we'd be today without Emily's vote of confidence?"

Spencer digested this. In all fairness, it was a reasonable question. She was known to be rather stubborn in most – oh, hell, _all_ – areas of her life. She would have never thought to give Toby the time of day if not for Emily's persistent defense of his honor. She could only imagine how things would have progressed without her influence. Nowhere – _that's_ how.

It was not a far-off thought to imagine herself having settled for somebody like Wren Kim. What if her life had turned out entirely different, and she was doing this very same thing with him instead, blissfully ignorant about Toby's long-standing innocence? She shuddered at the very thought.

"Let's not dwell on 'what ifs'," Toby stated at last, rubbing circles in the small of Spencer's back. "This week is about where we are now, and what we've conquered."

She smiled, standing on tiptoe to plant a short kiss on his lips. "Exactly what I was thinking."

When the band finished their song, vacationers in the pavilion paused to applaud their performance. Toby even dropped a ten-dollar bill in the tip jar to show his appreciation.

"C'mon," he said quietly, taking Spencer's hand. "Let's go look at those stars now."

She intertwined her fingers in his as he led her down the steps of the gazebo and towards the beach. She had to wonder in the back of her mind why more people weren't spending this beautiful night at the water's edge. The sloshing sound of the waves as they approached was like music to her ears, and only intensified the magical ambiance of the Hawaiian band playing a quarter mile back.

She instantly stepped out of her flip-flops and looped them around her free fingers, padding through the wet sand. Toby squeezed her hand lovingly as he watched her toes sink into the earth at their feet.

They walked down the beach in comfortable silence, leaving the luau far behind. The band could only now be heard distantly by the muffled wind. Spencer paused to star gaze, pointing out the vibrancy of the Big Dipper above their heads. Toby merely watched her with unbridled fascination, distantly aware that he had tuned out her voice long ago.

"…what do you think?" she finished, looking at him expectantly. He winced apologetically.

"I'm sorry, baby…think about what?"

She narrowed her eyes at him with playful irritation. "Not even listening to me, huh?"

"I was too distracted by how gorgeous you are," he answered honestly. As expected, she scoffed indignantly.

"Oh, right. Nice try."

"I'm serious!" he insisted laughingly, reaching out to take her by the waist. She backed away, further into the water until she was knee-deep. She eyed him flirtatiously.

"I was _asking_," she began pointedly, "what you thought about cultures that live their lives based on what's written in the stars."

"Well," he started, beginning to peel off his own shoes and socks and roll up his pant legs, "I think that, while astronomy and astrology are fascinating sciences, we make our own fate."

She nodded thoughtfully, looking skyward once more. "It's easy to understand though, I think. Some of these stars have been around for millions of years. There's a wisdom to that, that nobody can deny. The constellation rotations have predicted things for longer than we can even begin to fathom."

He waded into the water and looped his arms around her waist, following her gaze. He had never been much for analyzing the stars, but Spencer's sudden interest was piquing his own. He immediately located Orion's belt in the southeast region of the sky, wondering vaguely how astronomers made decisions about the shape of constellations. He wasn't even quite sure, frankly, how the constellation even resembled a hunter to begin with.

Spencer sighed contentedly, leaning back against his chest. "It's beautiful out here."

He gazed down at the side of her face, feeling his throat inexplicably tighten up. He could not put into words how emotional this very moment was making him feel.

"_You're_ beautiful," he murmured quietly. She turned to face him, cupping his face in her hands. He felt rather weak in the knees at her touch.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, too," he agreed, leaning down to kiss her. As his lips met hers, a familiar electricity shot through all of the nerve-endings in his body, nearly paralyzing him. He had felt this spark with her before – countless times – but tonight it felt tenfold. Perhaps it was the wine they had sipped on at dinner, or perhaps it was the sheer dream-like quality of their surroundings – but he felt completely vulnerable in this moment. If anyone had asked him to try to explain it, he wouldn't have had a prayer.

It was Spencer who broke the embrace, leading him silently towards land, her eyes never leaving his. She seemed to be caught up in a similar daze, heeding her deepest instincts. He followed her without hesitation, even as she lowered herself to her knees in the wet sand and pulled him down beside her. He scooted in closer to her, pulling her body flush with his. She smelled vaguely of seawater and the plumeria lei she had received at the front desk of their hotel.

He allowed his hands to roam along the outsides of her thighs, feeling as though a million volts were stunning him as he did so. The band had ceased to play; now he heard only the thrumming of his own heart and the soft sloshing of the waves hitting the sand beside them. She pulled him in for another kiss, sitting up high on her knees and pressing into him as she did so. He coaxed her lips open slowly, looping his tongue around hers. She moaned quietly. This simple sound incited a powerful reaction in the groin area of his pants, which were suddenly feeling far too tight for comfort.

She craned back to gaze at him, a familiar but intensified sort of fire shining in her chocolate eyes. Reaching behind her neck, she unfastened the single anchor of her dress, slowly using both hands to pull it over her head. Toby's mouth went dry at the way the hem caught on the undersides of her breasts for only a split second, causing them to lightly bounce back into place. The only piece of clothing that remained was a lace pair of white panties, which seemed to be emitting some sort of ethereal glow in the darkness.

As she tossed the dress aside, her eyes met his, as if silently challenging him to make the next move. He was instantly working to dislodge the buttons of his dress shirt, making sure that each move was slow and deliberate like hers had been. Her eyes followed his fingertips as he worked at his task, at last pulling the shirt back and away from his body. A distant part of him was somewhat concerned about their very public location, but another area of his mind was rationalizing that all lights of civilization were at least a mile behind them. And it was growing quite late – they would most assuredly be left alone.

She dragged her fingertips lightly down his abdomen, gingerly running them along the top hem of his boxers. He felt the lower half of his body respond eagerly to the touch. He was crawling closer to her once more, reaching out to grasp at her hips. To his surprise, she stopped his hands partway to their destination.

"Tell me you want me," she murmured huskily. Toby felt his insides contract.

"I want you," he insisted, leaning over to press his lips to her collarbone. She arched back in silent reply. "I will always want you."

"Tell me what you want to do," she continued breathlessly. Toby was unsure about the source of her sudden desire to narrate their romance, but found that it was surprisingly arousing. He pulled her hips swiftly into his, causing her to gasp softly.

"I want to make love to you. Now, and through the night, and for the rest of my life." He made a trail with his lips from her clavicle to her breasts, pausing to pay close attention to the scenery before him. It was almost as though her skin was glowing.

She moaned quietly, and Toby could no longer manage. He undid the button and zipper of his jeans, allowing himself more room to grow for her.

"Tell me how much you love me," she pleaded, pulling at the hair on the nape of his neck. He shuddered involuntarily.

"I would give the world to you, if it's what you asked of me," he whispered into her skin, guiding her into the sand. As her back met the ground, the edge of the waves lapped at their bodies, wetting her braid. She paid it no mind as she pulled her fingernails down the length of his back. He subconsciously pressed further into her in reply, pulling away at her last piece of clothing. "I have loved you from the moment we first became friends, and I will love you for eternity."

She looked close to tears. With one swift movement, she pulled his head back up to hers and brought her lips crashing to his mouth. He kissed back with equal fervor and desperation, pushing his pants and boxers down the remainder of his body. He hitched her legs up around his waist and found her entry point, causing both of them to whimper slightly in the arrival of this new pleasure. She rolled her hips against his, locking her ankles around his buttocks for an easier grip. Sliding his hands up the length of her arms, he intertwined his fingers in her own. Another wave glided over their joined hands. The cool water served as helpful in mitigating the heightened temperature of both of their bodies in the warm night air.

"You're everything to me," Spencer murmured into his mouth. "I love you."

"I love you," he replied quietly, pressing his lips to her forehead. The rhythmic dance that they were engaged in was pulling him closer and closer to heaven with each passing moment. As if reading his mind, Spencer suddenly squeezed her fingers tightly around his, arching into him. She cried out as she climaxed, whispering his name over and over again as the intensity grew. He quickened his pace as he, too, drew near. Then at long last, he felt every single muscle in his body tighten in anticipation and subsequently release. He pushed his forehead against hers, panting, as he finished.

For several moments, the only sounds in his ears were the accelerated beating of his own heart and water lapping against skin. He scooted down to lay his head on her chest, attempting to catch his breath. She ran her fingers through his hair affectionately as they both came down from the high.

"You're the most amazing person I've ever met," he mumbled, kissing her breast where his head lay. He could hear the smile in her voice as she responded.

"We have everything in front of us. The world at our feet," she mused softly. "You are the only person I want to share this journey with."

He raised his head to gaze at her, pulling himself up the length of her body to kiss her. Her lips were swollen between his own, but she nevertheless pressed sleepily against his mouth.

"And I promise you, Mrs. Cavanaugh, that I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it the most incredible journey you could ever fathom."

**_END_**

**_(TO BE FOLLOWED BY BRIEF EPILOGUE)_**


	25. Epilogue

****_**A/N:** Well, my loves, here we are! The end of the road for this particular installment. Again, I'd like to thank everyone who has messaged me or reviewed my work. I know I don't individually thank you all enough, but please know, from the bottom of my heart, that you all move me every day. An author's main purpose is to please their readers, and I hope I have done that creed justice for you all. _

_Please sign up for my author alerts to keep an eye out for Part III. I can't wait to see you all there!  
><em>

_I love each and every one of you. And no matter what is happening in your life right now, please remember that you are beautiful and special beyond measure. Nobody can ever take that away from you.  
><em>

_Thank you for a wonderful ride!  
><em>

_xoxo  
><em>

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><p><strong>EPILOGUE<strong>

_**1 Week Later…**_

The cold winter air in Michigan was the first sign that the honeymoon had truly ended. Spencer had disdainfully dug through her suitcase to locate a jacket when they landed, feeling rather emotional as she did so.

The week had been unprecedentedly magical, in ways that she had never imagined were possible. They had succeeded in touring all of the sites that she had planned, while also spending a great deal of time hiding beneath the covers and enjoying one another. It was like a whole new world had opened up for them – making love had always been a beautiful, treasured thing…but now, as a married couple, the emotional intensity had increased triplefold. She had hardly thought it was possible, but each and every time they made love, she felt close to tears.

And though she desperately missed the tropical winds of Hawaii, she could not deny the excitement that entered her heart as their home came into view. She hadn't realized how much she had actually missed it, but now found herself eager to curl up in her own bed and sleep off the jetlag.

The taxi pulled over and she and Toby went to work extracting their belongings from the trunk. Toby, of course, insisted on carrying much of it himself, nearly slipping on a patch of ice on the porch steps. Spencer hurriedly passed him up to get the door.

The moment they stepped in, the familiar scent of their house filled her nostrils. It was something between coffee and laundry detergent, and was entirely characteristic of the place she called home.

"Hanna?" she called, noticing the emptiness of the living room. "Holmes?"

"Huh," Toby mused, perplexed, as he dumped the suitcases and tote bags at the door. Spencer would have ordinarily chastised this, but she, too, was far too tired to unpack right now. "Where are they?"

As if on cue, Holmes came stomping down the stairs. It was clear that he was fuming about something or another. He did not even take notice of them as he marched into the kitchen and pulled a can of beer from the fridge, grumbling and '_harrumphing_' to himself.

"Holmes?" Toby asked carefully, raising a brow. Holmes nearly choked on his beverage at the greeting.

"Holy shit, Cavanaugh! You scared the piss out of me!" Then, as if not even remembering that he was angry, he broke into a wide grin. After but a moment of recovery, he was hurrying his way out of the kitchen and around furniture to hug them both. He bodily lifted Spencer off her feet in a giant bear hug.

"Welcome home!"

She laughed as he put her down, straightening her clothes to their original position.

"Where's Hanna?"

His face fell and he offered a noncommittal shrug. "I'm not sure what's going on. I said something about her hair looking different today and she started on about what a dick I am…locked herself in the bathroom upstairs. I've been trying to apologize and coax her out for over an hour. I finally just gave up."

Spencer winced apologetically. She knew how Hanna could get, especially during this particular time of the month. For normal females, emotions could run rampant…but for Hanna, everything suddenly became a life or death issue. She was outrageously sensitive, and if you managed to accidentally push a button, you were done for.

"She's probably just…you know…"

"PMSing?" Toby offered helpfully. Spencer elbowed him pointedly in the ribcage.

"_We_ can say it! _You guys_ can't!" she declared brashly. Then, with a click of her tongue, she pushed past both of them. "Let me go check on her. Maybe I can get her to calm down."

"I'm sure the fact that you're home will cheer her up in a split second," Holmes agreed.

Spencer took the stairs two at a time to get to the bathroom, arriving just in time to hear Hanna's muffled sobs on the other side of the door. She gently rapped her knuckles on the paneling.

"Han? It's me."

Hanna silenced herself instantaneously. Then, after a brief pause, Spencer could hear manic shuffling taking place.

"Just a second…I'm…naked…"

Spencer pulled a face. "What are you talking about? Since when do you care? Let me in."

"Hold on – I don't have makeup on."

Spencer rolled her eyes dramatically. "Hanna, you've got to be joking…you know I don't give a shit." She absentmindedly tried the doorknob, which, to her surprise, gave way immediately. She pushed it open.

"Spencer! Get out!" Hanna cried suddenly as she entered, standing protectively at the door and trying to hold it shut. Spencer had, however, already managed to wedge half of her body through. The other half easily followed.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded. She spent a moment analyzing Hanna's face, which was tear-stained and puffy from crying. She looked miserable. Spencer instantaneously went into protective mode, mentally going down the line of all the things that could have happened to shake her up this way. A death? Holmes being more than just generally irritating? Did he cheat on her? "Are you okay?"

Hanna's bottom lip quivered as she began vigorously shaking her head. Spencer instinctively grabbed her by the forearms and pulled her in for a hug.

"What's the matter?" she asked, softening her demeanor. Her heart was racing a million miles a minute. She had never seen Hanna like this through the entire duration of their friendship. She started crying into her shoulder, wheezing heavily from how hard she had been sobbing before.

"I don't – I can't – how can I?…"

"How can you what?" Spencer asked, pulling away to look at her. Hanna was purposefully avoiding her eyes. "C'mon, Han, you can tell me anything…"

And then she saw it. Over Hanna's shoulder and hanging haphazardly out of the garbage can. A slim, white piece of plastic with what most would consider arbitrary hieroglyphic markings. To many, it would mean nothing. To others, it was life changing.

It was a pregnancy test.

And it was positive.

_**END**_

_**(STAY TUNED FOR PART III)**_


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